


There was an idea

by PlagueBirbizzle



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: A+ Parenting, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Anxiety, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Get ready for some angst, Human Disaster Aaron Burr, M/M, Multi, Partially Blind Character, Slow Burn, Trust Issues, blame the infinity war trailer, inspired by marvel, what is 'friends'?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-30
Updated: 2018-11-09
Packaged: 2019-02-08 18:25:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 45,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12870405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlagueBirbizzle/pseuds/PlagueBirbizzle
Summary: "The idea was to bring together a group of remarkable people, see if they could become something more..."Aaron Burr knows how the game works: stay under the radar, and don't do anything stupid. Being reckless gets you in more trouble than what it's worth, and after ruining his chances in DC, his uncle enrolls him in Liberty High.However, New York is even more dangerous than he'd ever imagined, and with its famed superpowered residents taking an interest in him, it might be time to get a little reckless.All he has to do is keep up the illusion with everyone around him, but that's proving to be a 'slight' challenge, especially when people won't stop prying.Something must give in.





	1. "Before we get started, does anyone want to get out?"

**Author's Note:**

  * For [This birb's OG rp famizzle](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=This+birb%27s+OG+rp+famizzle).



> I wasn't going to write this, but then the infinity war trailer dropped and the headcanons dropped quicker (thanks to my close famizzle), so welcome to this fic!  
> As always, I hope you enjoy the ride!  
> -Birb.
> 
> tw;; implied abuse, slurs, bullying

It's amazing how things just seem to fall in and out of place, and yet still keep it together. It's like some screwed up Jenga tower at best; blocks tumbling off into the abyss of oblivion--

“Aaron, are you even listening to me?”

The blocks reset as the world fades in. Each block shifts to form the leather and metal of a car, expanding outwards into looming skyscrapers and bright lights. It's far from the quieter neighborhood back in DC, that's for sure.

He'd lived there as long as he could remember, surrounded by smaller buildings and quieter walks, poised and strung up to act as he should. As his parents wanted him to, in fact. It was something that loomed over him with each breath he took; a constant reminder at the lips of his aunt and uncle, in the flowery bruises painting his upper arms. _Don't do anything that compromises what we've given up for you, they'd say. Do not screw up._

And yet he did, Aaron thought, nails digging into his wrist. He'd ruined it all, and now they'd had to reset the scene. His friends, his school, his connections, his safe havens: gone, dissolving into the wind. A new game. Ready, player one?

No.

“Sorry,” He blinked, voice barely rising above a whisper. Complacent, apologetic. “I was looking at the lights.”

He knew that New York City should have been familar to him - the lights, the sounds - but with over a decade of memories piling over his last visit, it all seemed like a figmented fantasy. A set of images that just didn't make sense. Then again, sense left the moment he opened his mouth, dissolving the steps he'd meant to climb.

He's falling.

“Lights or not, you should be listening to your uncle, Aaron.” Another voice popped into his consciousness, making his eyes glance towards the front of the car, two figures staring ahead at the early evening traffic. Reds and yellows barely illuminating their faces, he could see the scowl set on plump red lips. “I did not raise a young man who ignores their elders. You know what happens when one is rebellious, don't you?”

Aaron felt his back sting, shifting in his seat as his mouth seemed to dry. “Yes, Aunt Rhoda, I'm sorry.” Complacent.

“Good, as long as we're on the same page, we can make sure you stay safe. That's what your parents would want.” Each word bounced off his eardrums with an intent he'd learned to read, despite the chipper tone she'd put on. Aaron didn't know exactly why Rhoda still tried to reach out to him, originally pegging it on her faux need to act like a doting mother among the pasty makeup and whitened teeth.

He wondered what Timothy saw in her, to be honest. Aaron snorted softly, turning back to the window. “Yes, Aunt Rhoda.” Stay complacent.

“Everything will be alright, it's just a minor setback, Aaron, and you'll fit right in with the New York crowds!” A series of claps, and an airy laugh later, Rhoda Edwards killed the car’s atmosphere, plunging it back into an uneasy tension. “Why, the events your uncle will introduce you to-” Aaron didn't really mind listening to the annoying rattles of golden bangles, nor the shuffle of another branded jacket, but his ears listened for the other variable in his newest game.

His uncle, all stone and Armani, stared ahead. Poised. “As long as the boy stays away from another goddamn fight, then perhaps there's still reason to keep him in the family.” It strikes him, and the subject matter seems to flinch when he glances at the rear view mirror, yet no apologies are muttered.

Aaron Burr curls into himself, nails in a wrist.

Fight. What they didn't know would not hurt them, but what they knew hurt him.  
He hadn't meant to get into trouble: he'd been doing so well.

Aaron remembered being backed into the alleyway, three faces leering at him with shit-eating grins. Travis, Hayden and Dennis: The school menaces, his most adamant tormentors.

_They'd taken his backpack, he recalled, one keeping his chest pinned to the floor with a boot on his spine, the others tossing the washed-out bag like a ball._

_“Look at him squirm!” One crowed. “Like a spineless worm.”_  
_“Does he even talk? Mute-ass idiot; how does he even get such good grades?”_  
_“Does daddy fork out a pretty penny?”_

_The bag had been dropped, something cracked, and the laughter continued._

_Aaron remembered letting them do it, letting them take whatever they pleased. They'd kept him pinned on the floor, spitting dirt, for god knows how long, and yet he knew it wasn't long enough._

_Travis - or was it Dennis - hauled him up by his sweater, feet scrambling in the air as the collar met his throat. He'd gasped, clawing at the hand on his collar, but unable to dislodge it._

_His hand, however, met the cool chain of his locket, and the sight triggered something he'd never forget._

_“Hey! The faggot has a necklace? How retarded can you get, Burr!” One jeered, stepping over the backpack and stilling his struggles. A hand tugged at it, “It's a locket too, boys! Looks like he's got a secret lover!”_

_They all crooned, jostling him, and Aaron recalled a shaky breath. “Leave it alone.”_

They didn't.  
They broke it.

“Aaron, honey, you've got to follow the plan, alright? You're not some reckless vigilante breaking the law, alright?” Rhoda’s trill fell into the narrative, bubbly among the steely weight in his throat. “My son is not a menace.”

_And that's when he broke them._

“Of course not, Liberty High will do him some good: best place in the city, and I expect him to flourish.” Timothy grumbled, hands curling over the steering wheel. “No surprises this time: we'll be right by his side in case he starts to wander.”

Wander? The nail marks numbed out, and Aaron resorted to gnawing at his lip. _Surprise._

“I will make you proud, sir.” Complacent, the words left Aaron's mouth, eyes trained on the glowing lines of light. “I will.”

“I know you will.” The words, intended to soothe, brought his nails deeper into skin.

Mauve flickered among the cuts.

* * *

 

Honestly, Aaron Burr knew how to play most games. By the time the car rolled into the driveway of his new home, a new set of objectives had been set into motion. Like clockwork, he watched his tasks fall into place: he leapt out of the car, immediately moving to retrieve the groceries in the back, then pretended to be more than willing to take them all into the house.

Three trips later, he proceeded to pack each item away, listening to his uncle in the other room, and then set the table; knives first, just like he'd been taught.

They arrived five minutes later, Rhoda holding lasagna, and the objectives ticked off periodically: make small talk, promise complacency, stop rubbing your arms, maintain eye contact.

Stop shaking.  
Eat some more.  
Don't screw up.  
Stop looking away.  
Eat some more.  
Speak up.  
Stop biting your lip.

The last objective faded away when his back hit the bed, satisfied, jersey tossed to the corner. Aaron winced, fabric pressing on healing wounds, and felt his teeth worry his lip once again.

_Don't let them see, his mind sighed, we can fix it. And he did._

Right on cue, the illusion dropped. The nail marks multiplied.

Aaron hadn't figured it out fully, but the sight of the mauve light dripping between his fingers calmed him significantly. Twisting his hands, the substance followed, submitting to the movement like a puppet on a string: complacent.

He watched it, wide eyed, and made a fist, letting the glow flow up his sleeve, tickling the welts and bruises of old. Numbing: an illusion. He exhaled, and the glow grew, living among him, within him.

Aaron inhaled, and it disappeared with the marks on his arms.

Objectives complete, he slept.

* * *

 

It was weird.

At first, he was scared: it wasn't normal for a teen to beat up three bullies with the aid of glowing hands. When he'd realized what he'd done, observing the carnage in his sight, he'd slumped to the floor in shock, eyes rolling to the back of his head. The bullies woke up without a recollection of how they got beaten up, a blessing in disguise, but the damage was done: Aaron Burr had officially placed himself on the map, and not in the way it was expected of him.

Objective failed.

It wasn't everyday someone found out they were gifted, all at the ripe age of 15.

And yet he couldn't find it in him to be impressed with himself.

His uncle made it harder.

“Those superpowered menaces are causing more harm than help!” Tim would spend many a night sneering at the tv, belittling news outlets as they spoke of the day's fuck-ups. Apparently it was a tradition in the household, he'd muse, and each new problem always seemed to stem from that.

“If the government just controlled all these freaks running around, maybe the police could do their job, y’know?” A puff, and a click, and the motion would repeat, slandering all the so-called heroes on tv. “It's not like they know what the law is! What if those Redcoats are using this as a cover up, working with those Revolutionaries?”

The Redcoats had only recently turned up in the news, but it seemed that the whole country was hyped about the cutthroat group wanting to control them. It didn't take long for each attack to bleed from state to state, but the moment it hit New York City, there was unlikely resistance. Sure, the police had tried their best to wrangle up the villians, but there wasn't much one could do with a bullet when another controlled metal.  
But that wasn't the resistance he'd had in mind.

The Revolutionaries stepped onto the scene soon after the ‘Coats tagged the city, pushing back against them like some messed up Capture The Flag game. In fact, the simile was adequate, considering multiple sources pinning each vigilante at a rather young age. “Barely out if high-school and they're throwing fire all around?! Where are their parents!” His uncle would rave, pointing at each hero with unrestrained anger. “They may be minors, but I'd hole them up if I got the chance, mark my words.”

Aaron would keep his mouth shut, brooding.

That's where he found himself, staring at the building with a raised eyebrow, kids of all ages passing by his car. Liberty High seemed like a nice place, well-kept and colorful, and Aaron couldn't wait to blend right into the furniture. A tried and tested method of protecting himself, it seemed.

He could not screw up.

“Ready to go, Aaron?” He turned to watch his uncle shift, placing a stern glare on the younger’s form. For a moment, the gaze raked upon the sweater-jeans ensemble, scrutinizing, and he curled his lip in distaste. Slowly, a hand tilted Aaron's chin up, and he stopped himself from pulling away.“You should have worn the shirt I bought you.”

It chaffed at the neck. “I didn't want to intimidate the other students.” Aaron looked away, lying delicately. “I'll wear it tomorrow, Sir.” The hand on his chin paused, and Aaron waited for the inevitable. “I'm sorry.”

It never came. “Have a good day at school, Aaron. I expect you back by six.”

“Yessir.” The words tumbled out of the teen’s mouth as he sprang out of the car, grabbing his backpack from the backseat and taking off up the stairs. Ignoring the startled looks of nearby students, Aaron kept his head down, navigating his way to the reception.

It was a small room, cosy, and the lady at the desk looked up as he entered, smile wrinkling. “Hello dear, how may I help you?”

Aaron straightened, flashing a smile that he'd perfected over many years of teaching. _You gotta smile, his uncle would say, it makes you look better. _“Well Mrs-” his eyes flickered to the table plaque, “Rogers, I'm new at the school and I wanted to get any orientation necessities.”__

The lady smiled, standing up. “Oh of course! You're Mr Burr, I assume?” She moved towards a set of file cabinets, pulling one out and picking a file. “Wonderful! I have all the things you need here, and I'll call your chaperone on the intercom to come and pick you up.”

“Chaperone?” The word sunk his smile for a brief second, glitching the illusion. “I did the orientation tour when I first arrived…”

“Oh it's nothing, really!” Placing the file in his hands, she chuckled, leading him to one of the plush armchairs in the room. “Here at Liberty, we want to make the transition as smooth as possible. In fact, your chaperone went through the exact same thing a year ago.”

Aaron flinched slightly as Mrs Rogers placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “It's just for a week, and then it's over! Cheer up, buttercup!”

With that, she jostled him good-naturedly, and left the teen to look at the file.

It wasn't much, Aaron deciphered, reading the contents with interest, only spotting yet another rule book among the timetables and schedules, and he closed the file after deeming it unnecessary to continue.

He did, however, train his eyes to listen to the chatter outside, watching figures pass by the door, unaware of his presence. Aaron wasn't scared of the new environment per say, it was more about gauging who to trust after leaving so many built relationships back home.

Theodosia had never truly forgiven him when she heard the news, and he accepted that; he'd almost told her about the ‘problem’ he'd faced, only to dismiss that as well. Why put that knowledge on her when she didn't need it? She had other friends to love and support, truly.

He looked at his hands, counting scars that nobody could see.

It was at that exact moment that the door burst open, slamming into the wall as a tornado swept through it. Startled, Aaron pressed back into the armchair, making a noise, only to see that the literal disaster zone had skidded to a stop, backpack jostling. “Sorry I'm late, Mrs R!”

So it spoke? Charming.

Aaron took his chance, and observed the teen in front of him. He looked around his age, and slightly taller than him - much to his annoyance - with dark hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. The rings around his eyes hinted at sleep deprivation, yet the coffee cup in his hand showed that the kid probably enjoyed it. Pair that with a hoodie and jeans, and one would have Hurricane-

“Alexander, it's quite alright.” Mrs Rogers chuckled, patting the teen on the shoulder. “Your new transfer was quite late himself.”

Aaron froze. Late? No, that can't be right! He'd woken up two hours early and waited for his uncle to wake up. He'd made breakfast. He'd even made sure the car was warmed up-

“Hey, you okay down there?” He blinked, catching the puzzled look of the other teen - Alexander - and looking away. “You look like you've seen a ghost. Don't worry, the Baron only haunts this place on Halloween and Valentine's day.”

“Alexander.” A tut from Mrs Rogers broke the suffocating tension, and Aaron sighed gratefully. “Leave the poor boy alone. I remember you tripping over yourself when Mr Mulligan was your chaperone. Ignore him Aaron, he's a cheek.”

“I can hande it, ma’am.” The words came out clearer than he thought they would, and Aaron set himself on autopilot, ignoring the squawk of his chaperone and walking to the door. “Thanks so much for the help.”

“You take care, dear!” She called back, and Aaron let the door close behind him.

Alone, Alexander Hamilton watched the display with a slightly open mouth, eyebrow raised in interest, and proceeded to give a low whistle. “He seems like a piece of work, Mrs R.”

It interested him greatly. “Now, don't scare him off, Alex. It's his first day; you know how they get.”

“It'll be fine!” However, the teen didn't seem to have heard, already speed-walking to the door with passion. “Trust me!”

With that, the door shut with a bang, and the receptionist shook her head fondly. “George really does let that boy off his leash; maybe this will do him some good?” They both had similarities, having looked at their files, but while Alexander was a living bomb, the Burr kid seemed...distant? She couldn't place it.

Oh well, it was just a week.

She chuckled, and settled back into her work.

 

 


	2. "You've become part of a bigger universe. You just don't know it yet".

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awkwardness???  
> Non-binary Laf incoming???  
> Burr??? Making friends??? Wow??  
> A little world-building???

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none really

The hallways stretched on for longer than Aaron expected, but with a steely determination and a map, he was sure he could find some way to lose his chaperone. Then again, experience was on the other’s side.

And speed, but that's besides the point.

“Hey! Aaron! Slow down.” Once again, the now familiar presence found his way to Aaron’s side, before shooting forward and blocking the path. “I'm not that bad; have I offended your ancestors or something, because then I'm terribly sorry.”

“Hmm.” Aaron tilted his head slightly as he observed the teen, stance neutral and face poised. Mentally, however, his mind was reeling, hoping to scramble up some way of getting away. From his experience, his chaperone smelled like trouble: something he craved to avoid at the moment. “Okay.”

“...You're going to be a tough nut to crack, Burr.” Slowly, Alexander smirked, void of ill intent, and extended a hand; it was the most civil thing Aaron had seen him do, and despite the obvious teasing (maybe he was trying to make you feel safer, his mind supplied) he seemed genuine enough. “Alexander Hamilton, also known as Alex, sophomore year at this old bag of bricks.”

Aaron stared at the hand for a moment too long, before a sharp snap in the back of his mind lurched him forward. An unconscious order to act the part, indeed. Frustrated with himself, Aaron swallowed slightly, before raising an eyebrow. “Aaron Burr, sophomore year. Nice to meet you.”

They shook. His hand stung, and Aaron swallowed it down with a thin-lipped smile.

“Well, now that the pleasantries are over, let's get you sorted. You look like a guy who enjoys being on the ball, so I'll try and help with that.” Clasping his hands together, Aaron watched the other rock on their heels, receding into a flurry of words. “We'll get your locker and books before the day is done - moving here halfway through a semester is weird, I guess - and then I'll check if your timetable is--”

Aaron closed his eyes, letting a small sigh grace his lips. An inkling within him wondered if this was just a cruel joke, pairing him with the literal embodiment of someone wanting to lose their tongue, but another made him just accept his situation. At least it wasn't worse. _Breathe in - one, two, three - breathe out._

“But that's for later.” Opening an eye, Aaron caught Alexander - Alex - staring at him once more, having trailed into a small string of silence. Caught, the staring contest solidified, completely displaced from the busy school around them.

Aaron swallowed as Alex tilted his head. “Hey...Are you sure you're okay? First day jitters, or something?”

 _Or something._ Aaron, threatened, felt his mental illusion slip back into place, and shook his head involuntarily. A second later, a glimmer of a smile graced his lips, a moniker to his usual form. _Stay safe, just like you've practiced._ “I guess so, but let's get moving, right? Don't want to be late.”

It worked.

“Oh okay, lemme see your file.” Gaze dropping, Alex retrieved the orientation file with one hand, and fished in his pocket with another, slipping a pair of glasses onto his face. Briefly, his eyes darted across the page, before nodding. “Mhm, not bad at all! You're in some of my classes, and in my APUSH class, so that's great.”

 _Joyful: life is great._ Aaron huffed, eyes rolling.

“And your locker is not far from your first class, so I'll drop you off.” With that, Alex tucked the file under his arm, and grabbed at the other’s hand, stilling at the slight flinch. Like a palm to a stove, the hold retracted. “Oh...sorry. Is that okay or -”

“No, I shouldn't have-” Caught off guard, Aaron spluttered over the apology, feeling his face heat up. “It's fine, really-”

“I should have asked. Maybe you don't like touching people? Stupid-”

“It's fine…” It's my fault. The mumble died into silence.

They stared at each other for a moment, searching for any further words, and found nothing. Alex, taking that as his cue, started walking, weaving through grouped students.

 _Idiot. Stupid stupid stupid--_ Aaron whined softly, hands going to grip the inside of his jean-pockets, and followed, eyes downcast.

_It's been less than an hour, and you're already failing, huh?_

For a moment, he forgot to stop worrying his lip.

* * *

 

“So, here's your locker.” The walk had been the most quiet thing Aaron had experienced in a long while, especially among another human being, and yet he took no comfort from it. In fact, when he heard Alex speak once they'd stopped near a set of corner lockers, he almost choked. “It's a nice spot: most of the kids around here leave early, so less traffic.”

_Less people to impress._

“Thanks.” Aaron nodded, moving past him to get to the locker. The ones beside him had already been decorated, and his paled in comparison, but he didn't seem to pay it much attention.

However, there was enough attention to warrant a “You can decorate it however you want, but it must be able to come off when the year is over.” as he packed some of his stuff away. Briefly, he caught the sheen of his new tablet among his books, a different brand to what he used to have. His uncle insisted.

Dammit, Dennis.

“I'll do that later.” Aaron promised, and slammed the locker shut. “That alright?”

Alex made a face, “Why wouldn't it be? You don't have to if you don't want to…” Shrugging, the teen turned on his heel, and started walking. “It's just a thing here, somewhat a tradition.”

 _Traditions help cement a good reputation, Aaron. Honor them._ Rhoda’s tut slammed against his cranium, and Aaron huffed. “Seems like fun, anyway.”

“Guess so, mine’s a work in progress.”

  
By the time Aaron was in front of a door -Mr Paine, English - the telltale feeling of tension had swept over him once again. It was one thing to gauge the actions of one individual, but a classroom was even crueler.

Especially halfway through a semester: bonds had already formed. He was an outsider, fresh meat.

“I'm in Mr Paine’s other class.” Alex rattled on beside him, staring into the door. “Despite the name, he's not that bad. If you ignore some of the impassioned speeches, you'll get through it; well, that's what Angelica told me, and she's practically his favorite.”

“Who?” Aaron turned away from the classroom, looking at the teen with a furrowed brow. This was the first time he'd name-dropped, after all.

“Oh, you'll meet Angelica Schuyler soon enough; she's practically senior year's most eligible bachelorette.”

_A senior?_

“Yeah.” Apparently, Aaron had said his thoughts out loud. “She has the highest english grade from Paine in the verbal history of Liberty High, and she probably deserves it. Intense as all hell, she is. Rumor has it that she's slapped Jefferson so hard that Liberty Prep heard it.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow at the shit-eating grin, and the awe in his voice, but didn't ask for an explanation. He had a week of this, anyway, so he'd rather stack ammunition for potential awkwardness. “I'll keep that in mind, but you've got to get to class-”

The words seemed to kickstart something. “Oh shit, can't keep Professor Franklin waiting! He had my ass the last time--” With that, Alex patted the other on the shoulder, practically buzzing. “Enjoy english, and I'll see you in Washington’s class? I think?”

Aaron barely stuttered out a reply as Alex sped down the hall, and with one last look at his only lifeline, taking off into the crowds, he was alone.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, Aaron felt a little emptier.

* * *

 

The classroom was half-empty by Aaron's observation, and it made it harder to decipher which seat he could take. Initially, he looked to the front of the class, spotting a few seats open, and pondered if the stereotypes worked in this school.

Usually people avoided the front, he'd noticed, leaving the teacher’s pets and smart kids to snag them, with at least one seat open for the odd delinquent who got into trouble. However, Aaron had grown to enjoy the benefits of such a spot; while people hated being so near the teacher, he'd found himself being out of the teacher's line of sight in most lessons. A bittersweet thing.

Then there was the back and windows: the cool kids, class clowns and rebellious teens took those, with the odd artist wanting a spot to hide their other endeavors. Aaron never considered the back in any circumstance, the memories just too vivid, and the idea vanished with a puff of air. A new kid, uninvited, claiming a backseat? _Instant social-suicide._

And then there was the mid--

“You look lost.” The muffled words, coming from behind, made Aaron whirl around, only to stare down - yes, down, his mind confirmed - at a concerned teen. Besides the thick sweater and scarf, the latter being the cause of the muffled speech, the teen looked practically cosy for a moderately cold day. The scarf went up to his nose, leaving dark eyes under a furrowed brow.

_It was still fall, right? Autumn? Then again, long sleeves were his staple outfit too._

“You've been standing here for awhile, so I guess you're the new student. You don't seem-” The teen paused, taking a deep breath, and coughed slightly. “Like all the other douches in my class. James Madison, at your service.” A hand was offered, and it wasn't gloved, to Aaron’s amusement.

He smiled, shaking it. “It's been almost half a semester, I thought I'd stand out?”

James, pulling down the scarf, chuckled. “I'd assume so, but the ol’ cold has been keeping me away from being an actual Liberty student. Pair that with asthma and you've got yourself a party.”

“Oh, I didn't mean to-”

“It's all good, don't stress yourself out…?” James waved a hand, dismissive.

“Aaron Burr, I guess.”

The teen nodded at the name, and walked further into the class, heading for a set of seats near the front. Aaron, on instinct, followed. “You can sit with me, if you want, that is. The seat next to me is open, because apparently asthma is contagious and all the idiots believe crappy YouTube videos. Shocking.”

The sheer tone of the words, and the added jazz hands, had Aaron laughing softly, and he caught James smiling triumphantly.

“You laugh? I now know that you're not a robot, congratulations.” An eyebrow was raised. “That's a good sign.”

Aaron calmed down, and reciprocated with an eyebrow of his own. “Is that the only test? Shocking.”

“God...Thomas would like you.” James laughed, scarf muffling the sound, and Aaron couldn't help but smile.

Perhaps this wasn't such a bad thing after all.

* * *

 

The cafeteria was full of noise, spiraling from the scattered tables, yet everyone seemed to hear each other just fine among their friends. From future prom dresses to the big game, words flung from person to intended person, a symphony akin to a modern watering hole.

However, one specific table wanted to hear some unintended words. “Jefferson, really?” Three teens sat around a table in the corner of the room, and the smallest threw his arms up. “I understand Madison to an extent, but how in flying-hell-on-ice does Aaron like Jefferson!”

“Keep your voice down, Alex, at least the guy is laughing. From what you've said, he seems content around them.” To his left, Alex listened to the older of the three, who had his hand curled around some juice concoction, snort. “It's just day one, so nothing's official.”

“It's not like you called dibs or anything.” The other, smirking over a lollipop, added with a nudge. “Unless you did…”

“I did not, John. I'm not seven.” Shoving back, Alex placed his chin in his palm wih a huff, blowing a lock of hair out of his face. “But Jefferson...That's insane.”

In the distance, Aaron laughed again, followed by a taller teen nudging him teasingly. Their exchanged words were censored by the cafeteria’s white noise, and Alex groaned.

“This sucks ass-”

“Who's sucking ass?” The three looked up, much to the amusement of the source. Raising one sharply cut eyebrow, the teen grinned at their friends, before plopping onto the bench across them. “Because I'm feeling left out.”

“Laf, I swear.” The older of the three sighed, but a smirk graced his lips. “You're a lot.”

“Au contraire, Hercules, I'm practically enough for everyone if they do it right.” The words brought a snicker to John’s mouth, and Alex watched the exchange with interest.

“Really, Gilbert.”

John Laurens, Hercules Mulligan, and Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch, Gilbert du Motier de La Fayette: his ragtag group of friends. Despite being in different grades - with Herc and Laf being a senior and freshperson respectively - they'd somehow formed a squad so compact, that the school practically treated them as a unit.

Alex met Hercules first, having had him as a chaperone despite the age gap. With that, he'd met a rambunctious eyeliner-clad frenchperson after a rather interesting rap battle after school, and when a senator’s son joined his classes a semester ago, the quartet was complete.

He couldn't ask for better friends, honestly.  
However, ‘friends’ was starting to feel like an annoyance, and yet he couldn't find the words to express it.

“Though Lafayette can't join in on Alex’s roasting, because they're chill with Thomas.” Apparently the conversation had continued, and Alex blinked as Herc nudged him. “In fact, I think we're all pretty chill with him, it's just that Alex and Thomas just enjoy screaming a little too much.”

“I do not.” The words came out as a grumble.

“The sugar-crash doesn't lie, Hamilton.” John piped from his other side, “But if you really want this Burr guy, I'm all for it.”

“Who?” Laf turned to Herc for confirmation, and was subsequently pulled forward. The two occupied, Alex turned his attention to his closest friend, and he shook his head.

“You haven't seen it yet, but something's up with the guy, John, and I can't pin it.”

“Something odd, or ‘odd’ odd?” The reply made Alex choke slightly, before making a noise and clasping a hand to the other’s mouth.

Herc and Laf didn't notice.

John, however, licked the offending palm, and received an appropriate response. “Okay okay, my bad...It's normal stuff, then.”

“Of fucking course it is!” Eyes rolling, Alex huffed. “I just want to make sure he's okay; the guy seems a little too jumpy and reserved, and I don't think that's healthy. You'll see it when you meet him, but it's really off, and he seems like a nice guy.”

Frustrated, Alex passed his fingers through his hair. “Look, even if that M.O. is reserved for our extracurricular activities...” The two glanced back over to the faraway table,before meeting eavh other’s eyes again. Alex’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I still want to help, or at least confirm that the guy is alright. You get me?”

A pause.

“...You sure you're not just catching feelings?” A concerned frown.

“No.” A mental blush.

The noise around them faded into silence, a bubble of personal understanding enclosing the two. Their little secret, only seen by grainy youtube videos and eye-witness news. It was a tough life, but it wasn't anything they hadn't seen before. In a world like this, it happened eventually, and Alex was lucky to have found a partner when he did. Like Ambassador and his rumored companion, like Marquis and Espionage, like--

“I'm in.”

“What?”

“Come on Alex, we can be Hurricane and Activist out of our suits, can't we? So, let's.” It took a moment, but John responded quietly, before raising his voice. “Operation Burr-n it up is a go?”

The bubble popped, and noise flooded in.

“Shitty operation name, but I'll respect the dibs. I'm up for it., though.”  
“I'll tell the Schuylers.”

Breaking eye contact, Alex regarded his squad with a grin, and the quartet stared at the table in question as the room rattled on.

“Then it's settled.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this was originally part of chapter one, but I liked the flow when it was split. Nonetheless, name-dropping galore, in more ways than one! While I'm sure some of the names are easy to link, the characters are going to be slightly oblivious haha. 
> 
> Let me know what you think/theorize, and another thanks to all the comments/kudo/bookmarks so far! Y'all really bring a soul back to a birb.
> 
> (PS: All he chapter titles are (will be) MCU quotes lmao)


	3. "You speak of control, yet you court chaos."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron experiences his first lunch at Liberty High, and promptly wants to forget it ever happened.  
> (Too late, my talons slipped)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; panic attacks

“So you’re technically from here, but not?” James, much to Aaron’s surprise, had decided to stick with him; the surprise being that Aaron had not expected to make a friend that quickly. Adding the fact that they seemed to share a couple classes before lunch, it seemed like a good idea at first.

Now, as the two were en route to the cafeteria, Aaron found himself thankful that James had approached him first. He replied with a shrug, a brief smile forming. “I guess so, Uncle Tim had a job posting in DC and refused to pass it up; so I was hauled off soon after.”

“I know the feeling; I'd have wanted to…”

James hadn't asked about his parents, despite Aaron giving many an avenue to get that out of the way, and yet it didn't feel like sympathy. In fact, when James had started talking about his own family, who seemed far too important in Virginian social-circles, he only touched on it briefly.

And by the way he explained that he'd heard far too many stories, the teen probably knew enough. Aaron placed his hands in his pockets, staring ahead as the hallways thinned out. A gentle nudge brought him back to earth, and when he caught James’ curious stare, he raised an eyebrow. “Huh?”

“Well, space cadet, I was saying that we should get moving before Thomas has a fit.” The words were light, and partially questioning. “And Dolley will have my head if she doesn't see me eating something.”

Aaron blinked, breath hitching quietly, but he kept his voice level. “Are you sure you guys are okay with me being around you - not that I don't want to be around you all.”

James raised an eyebrow, before hooking an arm with his companion. “We’ll have to see, but don't worry...I don't know if Hamilton already gave you the rundown, but we’re not that bad. If it gets too much, we’ll leave, okay?”

 _We’ll._ Aaron felt his heart jump at the words. “That's fine.”

“No problem.” The cafeteria sights and sounds loomed ahead of them, and James nodded. “Just follow me...Thomas is an acquired taste, but he's alright. Trust me.” With that, he tugged the taller through the doors, scanning the room for a moment before walking towards a table.

Aaron, however, was doing research. Instantly, his eyes darted from table to table, picking out any faces he could recall from his classes, especially ones that could potentially cause him trouble. True to tried and tested theories, he saw many of them grouped together, and that made him sigh in relief.

Packs were easier to avoid than individual threats, he'd discovered after countless hours of paranoia, and with him being freshmeat, avoidance was key.

However, when his eyes landed on a faraway table, with only one teen sitting around it, he blanched. That teen looked like trouble, indeed, and it seemed like that was his destination.

Clad in black jeans and a vintage demin jacket, the senior had one sneakered foot on the seat and another on the floor, bouncing to some unheard beat in his earphones. A halo of hair covered his face from view, swaying to the bobbing of his head, and when Aaron got close enough, he noticed the array of badges clipped on the denim collar.

_A senior through and through, oozing the aura of the alpha high-schooler; accomplished too._

Aaron swallowed a whine, his unoccupied arm twitching. _This was a joke, his mind, accusing, screamed. You're going to be ridiculed get out get out get out-_

However, Thomas Jefferson looked up as they approached, and smiled, friendly yet curious. _Wait._ Aaron smiled back.

“I almost thought I'd have to come find y’all.” A warm drawl left the senior’s lips as a hand took out an earphone, letting it dangle on his shoulder. “But here you are.”

“You take three steps to my one, Thomas, so it's going to take some time.” James retorted, letting go of Aaron’s arm. “Not all of us can be long-legged southerners.”

Up close, Aaron noted just how tall the teen was, and when Thomas stood up, he did a double-take to observe James. An uncanny pair, it seemed. However, his quiet observation was broken by eyes trained on him, and he jolted slightly as he was addressed. “You're new, right?”

“Thomas, this is Aaron. He transferred here and this is his first day.” James, catching on, replied instantly. “Aaron, this is Thomas Jefferson: head of our Track team, drama and debating.”

“Hopefully my reputation doesn't proceed me.” A sheepish laugh and an outstretched hand later, Aaron was shaking hands with the senior. “I'm barely back from France and they're already at it again.”

“I don't think I've had enough time to form assumptions, no worries.” Aaron replied, huffing, yet curious. The senior still had him on high alert, but he kept his composure. “You were in France?”

Thomas beamed while James groaned, the latter taking a seat on Thomas’s left side. “Well, you've instantly unlocked his friendship.”

“What? Me?” Scandalized, the senior placed a hand on his chest, jaw wide. “I would not be that easy to subdue! Do you know who I am?” Slinging his arm around the smaller, the nasal indignation cracked back into an easy drawl. “...I demand only the greatest offerings for my friendship.”

“I've already given you my sanity, Thomas.”

“Exactly.”

Aaron found himself chuckling briefly at their antics, watching the two bicker quietly as he sat down, and processed the last few moments in his head. Sure, the senior did have an air of superiority, and by their intimacy with James, it seemed they knew each other well, but Aaron still didn't want to calm down.

_It was only the first day, after all; maybe they were just being nice._

“Hey Aaron, before I forget.” Once again, Aaron looked up quickly, catching the brown gaze of the senior; each eye pinned him down gently, one slightly sharper than the other. A method to escape? “Welcome to Liberty High.”

“Uh, thanks?” The words came out stretched, and Thomas smiled.

“No problem, but let's get back to business-”

“Thomas, I am not letting Aaron’s first day be full of your escapades in France, okay?” James tutted, patting his friend's dropped shoulder. “Let's be less dramatic, just for one day? For me?”

“If you put it like that…”

Aaron looked between them, eyebrow raised in amusement. _An uncanny pair, indeed; hold onto them._

“Speaking of doing things,” Thomas, brightening, looked between the two before settling on James, looking at the other with a critical eye. “Have you taken your med-”

“Can I first eat?” James, spluttering, folded his arms. “I will.”

“Then eat, because Dolley texted me to tell you that she's busy helping someone at the library,” Thomas raised a finger, before adding another. “And that she won't be here to fuss over you like the awesome girlfriend she is.”

Aaron froze. _Girlfriend?_ His assumptions terminated with the very words, and he sighed mentally. Despite having only seen the two interact for less than an hour, Aaron was sure he'd read something within their words. Maybe they were just good friends?

He'd experienced that before.

“Fine fine, but engage our new friend while I chew.” James muttered, a dopey smile gracing his lips for a fraction of a second. “I'll tell her I'm eating.”

With that, the table fell into a formula Aaron knew well, much to his approval, and he clung onto that as he continued to read his new found...friends?

He came up with a few points:

-Thomas and James were both from Virginia, and with wealthy, influential families to boot. When he mentioned his surname, Thomas had a slight shock, before choosing to avoid the subject altogether, citing that the venue was too large for such things.  
Aaron was grateful.

-James, to his surprise, had a pet tarantula named Terry, and promised to show him whenever he came over.

-Thomas wanted a dog, but his parents refused.

-There were usually more people at the table, and while Aaron had heard that one teen named Dolley would not be there, he heard no other names uttered. A tricky subject then.

-Thomas was in France for some debating conference, hosted by his scholarship givers. To Aaron’s surprise, Thomas decided to work his way into the school, despite his parent’s obvious wealth.  
He said it was because they hated the place.

-On Friday, the two would be staying over at Thomas’.

-They'd invited him along.

“If you want to, of course.” James said, finishing up the last of his sandwich. “It's just a small get-together, but it'd be fun with one more.”

“Yeah, and I can drive us there and drop you off if needed.” _A good power play, Uncle Tim would be thrilled to see you rubbing elbows with-_

“S-sure.” Aaron spluttered, smiling slightly. “If you'll have me.”

“That's great!” Ecstatic, Thomas clapped his hands together. “Just swing it by your aunt and uncle first and I'll set everything else up. Look at that, your first official chill session with cool kids like us.”

James huffed, and Aaron found himself laughing. “I guess so.”

The silence was anything but awkward, broken by the odd conversation topic (“Wait, you play Overwatch?” “Yeah, my friend back in DC is obsessed with it; played it competitively in the summer.”) or phrases Aaron had experience in avoiding (“You've barely eaten anything…” “Big breakfast, it's cool.”) and by the time it felt like he'd been sitting with the two for ages, James looked ahead with a sigh.

“They're still glaring, well, Alex is.”

 _Hamilton?_ Aaron started to turn, only for Thomas to grab his hand stealthily. “No wait, don't let them know that we know, it'll just cause a fight and I'm not in the mood.”

The two shared a look, and Aaron read between the lines: Thomas genuinely didn't want to scare him off. Odd.

“Well, Hamilton is Aaron’s chaperone, so it makes sense that he'd want to sit with him at lun-”

“Well that's a fucking human disaster waiting to happen? Seriously?” Thomas, keeping his voice down, chuckled. “The guy can't even manage his own life, let alone take care of another.”

“He's...talkative.” Aaron supplied, looking at the table. “I guess it works for him. He's been nice to me so far.”

“His little set of friends enhance that, but I have no quarrel with them.” Thomas shrugged, while James seemed to be having a mental conversation with the other side of the room. “I'm just saying that Hamilton needs to get that stick out of his ass and not cause a scene-”

“Too late, he's coming over.” James looked away, and shook his head. “Thomas, behave, and if you want to leave, Aaron, you can. We won't judge.”

Aaron met his gaze, eyebrows furrowing in an attempt to read the situation, and saw a familiar glimmer of understanding.

He nodded, standing up. “If you say so-”

A hand patted at his shoulder. “Hey Burr!” Turning, Aaron spotted the bright smile of one Alexander Hamilton and a face he recalled from his math class, “How's the day going?”

Aaron winced slightly at the blatant rise in pitch, exuding false cheer, and shrugged to hide it. “Nothing much, math was as you'd expect, and I met James in english.”  
A test, he gestured to the teens ( _friends?_ ) at his table. “He's been really helpful.”

Alexander turned to James, smiling, and nodded. “That's great, thanks for watching out for him.” He seemed to ignore Thomas’ sharp glare, which only sharpened. “I guess I can't be in all of his classes.”

“None of the chaperones are, anyway, and most aren't even in the same grade.”

“Thanks Jefferson.” _Surnames_ , Aaron noted. “I'll remember that.”

Aaron opened his mouth, only for Thomas to reply. “Good, now is there a reason you and Laurens are here...because trouble follows y’all -”

“Y’all.”

“- wherever you go.” Thomas ignored the interruption, eyebrow raised.

“Nah, I'm just here to pick up Aaron for Washington’s class.” Aaron noted the crack in cheer, laced with sharp edges. “The bell is about to ring.”

“Well, we would have taken him there as well; we're in the same class.” Level, Thomas responded with a nonchalant shrug. “We'll be fine.”

“Thanks for the help, but I can take it from here, right Aaron?” Suddenly, the tension between the two flowed wih a shift in eye contact, and Aaron found himself shrinking slightly under their collective glares.

It didn't feel good at all, and from his awkward stance between his seat and the table, there was nothing to physically anchor him. “Um…”

The discussion left him behind, and Aaron mentally scowled.

“Look, Hamilton,” Waving a hand for emphasis, Thomas sighed. “I know this arrangement must be getting your panties in a twist, but just let it go. Aaron doesn't need a constant watchdog like you do.”

“What did you say?” For the first time, Aaron noted the newest face talk, a southern tinge to the words making him teeter slightly. Unlike the others, who'd resorted to passive-aggressive tones, it seemed that the teen had been holding his tongue for far too long. “If you're going to be a dick, Jefferson, then at least tell that to my face.”

The teen ( _Laurens?_ ) was about the same height as Alexander, with a pretty set of curled hair tied into a low ponytail. Among a steely gaze, Aaron noted the spectacular array of freckles dotting his skin, likening them to constellations.

He'd almost traced out Orion when he heard a reply. “You're here already, aren't you?” A tilt of the head and a huff had Thomas leaving his seat. “Defeats the purpose.”

“The purpose of my chaperone status is to help, which I don't need from you.” Alex, gritting his teeth, practically walked into Thomas’ personal space. “So let me do my job.”

“Come on Hamilton, give it a fucking break.”

“Umm -” Aaron felt his mouth open pathetically, heard by none as James went to Thomas’ side, attempting the break the sudden posturing.

“Alexander, calm down.”

The world started to mute itself, and Aaron felt his throat constrict. _This was bad._ “G-guys.”

“Not until Thomas fucking backs off.” Alex seethed, practically touching chests (in the figurative sense) with the other. “And stops being a dick.”

“You came onto us, Ham-Ham.” Thomas, looking down, scowled, and promptly took a minute step back in defiance. “I'm doing jack-shit.”

“I th...think.” The words came out hoarse, mind reeling, and Aaron gripped the table to steady himself. _Bad bad bad trouble no wait I -_

Aaron saw a fist curl into existence, and the words snapped into place. “Alex no!”

He moved back, and the seat stayed still, sending him toppling backwards with a startled yelp. The floor only seemed to meet him after ages in freefall, but the jagged angle he landed in brought enough pain to be remembered.

Unfortunately, his back agreed, shrieking.

The voices flooded in.  
“Aaron are you okay -”  
“Dude are you-”  
“Oh god, is he unconscious.”

Too many voices, muffled by the pain, were followed by a sudden grasp on his body. Aaron, startled, wrenched away, shuffling backwards with a cracked sound from his mouth.

The voices stopped, and were replaced with one: _angry._

* * *

 

Aaron didn't know how long he stayed on the floor, back stinging like it had been soaked in saltwater, but when he heard a more quiet voice nearby, asking for permission to touch him, the intent seemed clear enough.

 _Help? False help no they'll be angry trouble trouble trouble._ His lungs refused to let him breathe. _No no no they'll be so mad I'm dead no no -_

“Aaron, if you can hear me, it's James.” _James? James. Did he scream was he mad no - no he was not mad he -_ “I'm walking you to the nurse, if that's alright with you. You hit your head when you fell.”

 _Nurse. No no no no no no._ Aaron felt a whine leave his lips, strangled, and the voice continued. “No nurse?” A shaky sob. “That's fine..no, don't shake, I've got you. We'll go to the bathroom; I know first aid. I just need you to continue walking, okay?”

Walking? He was walking? He could do that, right?

“That's it...You're doing great.” James continued speaking, somehow deciphering when another panic session would occur, and by the time Aaron spotted a cool white among his blurred vision, the distant sound of a bell echoed.

James locked the bathroom door, having opted for one of the teachers’ bathrooms, and gently let Aaron sit on the toilet seat.

Silence.

“I'm...fuck.” Aaron looked up, watching the clearer image of the teen rummage through his backpack. His own, he noted, was nowhere to be seen. “I'm sorry you had to see that - if I'd known it would...I would have,” he waved a hand, sighing. “I'm sorry.”

Aaron opened his mouth, only to shake considerably. Trapped among his own thoughts. _It's okay please don't be mad it's my fault it's -_

“As long as you know it's not your fault.” James muttered, and stepped forward with a red box: a small first aid kit.

Aaron stared at it, breaths shallow. “...W-why.”

“I keep it for my siblings, mostly. They're rowdy.” James lowered his voice, gentle. “And just as a precaution, you never know; it's helping here at least.”

Aaron noted the stinging sensation on his back; a cut must have reopened, left vulnerable from his attack -

_Left vulnerable, seen.  
No, wait._

Aaron curled into himself at the realization, whining softly as a sob escaped his lips. Briefly, he heard James ask if he could touch him again, and he felt himself nod between the sobs.

_He’ll see he'll see he'll see -_

Arms wrapped around him, and yet nothing happened: no questions, no words, just silence. A miracle, which the illusion took as an opening, stitching itself back into place.

Yet Aaron cried, and James kept his hold, murmuring quietly whenever it got too much. He'd had experience in many things, being the older brother to a plethora of siblings, but this…

_This was wrong, he noted._

Silence spoke, and he listened.

He understood, letting the sobs turn from vocal to silent, shoulders only jostling. “...Can I see? I...I won't think less of you.” The hands clinging to his sweater tugged, and he waited patiently, calmly. “Let me help? Is that okay?”

Silence.

Then a nod.  
James, for the first time in this pseudo-hug, squeezed back slightly: a silent promise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been raining this whole week, and I've drank at least 420 cups of tea while beating FNAF6.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed the angst whoops (the outline I had for this was hella different).  
> Also, I watched 1776 again while brainstorming, so prepare for more characters and popping up in the tags aha ;)


	4. "If you need us…if you need me…I'll be there."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bathroom chats™  
> A lunchtime roast™, ft. The French  
> Someone catching feelings, dammit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw; implied abuse(?)

 

_The last time Aaron cried was when he left DC, swaddled up in blankets as an arm curled at his side. Briefly, he'd find his head resting against the permanent fixture on his shoulder, grounding him when things started to blur._

_“You okay?” She had asked; voice sounding like anything but a formality. It sounded genuine, he could tell._

_“No.” He had replied, truthful and quiet, and when the hand in his squeezed lightly, a reassurance, he squeezed back, a reassuring response._

_Most would have taken the cuddle pile - barely watching an E-sports competition on the muted television - as some form of a date, but Aaron knew better. Then again, a year ago, he may have considered that very thing, but why bother? Theodosia went further than a hookup: she was his family of choice._

_“You know you can reach me whenever you need it, okay?” After his disasterous last day in class, Aaron had not wasted any time peddling towards the only one who'd understand, despite them having left the school a year prior._

_She had gotten his text message by the time he'd opened the door, spare key dangling among other things. (“I would have picked you up, Ar-Bear.” “I wanted to burn some of this energy off, it's fine.”)_

_After a quick message to his uncle, Theodosia did what she did best, and Aaron let the tears roll out._

_“You're going to be so busy with your degree.” He recalled murmuring, leaning into the plush pillows on the couch. Fluffy: he'd helped pick them out. “I'll be fine.”_

_“Aaron, I'll be here, but you don't have to go through this alone.” The words, intending to sooth, stung, and Aaron bit his tongue in personal anger. “You're not alone.”_

_He should have told her.  
He should have told him._

_Him._

_“...I can't even say goodbye.” The words had dripped out of his throat, hiccuping, and he found himself swarmed by the smaller form of his friend, her dreads prickling against the tears. “I won't get to say good -”_

_“You're not going forever,” The breath had tickled his shoulder as the head moved off, and soft hands had gripped his cheeks, wiping the tears periodically. A smile - oh, her beautiful smile - grew on her face. Smile more, but better. “We'll always have this.”_

_Always?_

_“Yeah, always...You'll just have more friends who love you as much as we do, you'll see.”_

  
Aaron snapped back into reality as a tissue passed over his jawline, and watched as his own hand fell to his lap. Blinking, he focused ahead of him, and caught sight of James ( _James?_ ) cradling his other hand, administering some antiseptic gauze on a cut across the palm.

 _That one was new_ , he noticed, and with that, he relaxed; only to see the stripes along the back of his hand.

_Exposed_

_He know he knows he knows-_

_“Aaron, you're not alone.”_

“Sorry, it stings, I know.” Aaron watched him work with glassy eyes, blinking periodically. “But I don't want it to get infected.”

“It's f-fine…” The words, hoarse, left his lips, and James looked up, smiling in relief. Aaron, sensing calm, genuine calm, pushed more words out. “I’m okay…”

James kept quiet, turning away and continuing. Once satisfied with his work, he picked up a small roll of bandages and wrapped the hand, stilling slightly to check that the older scars were snug, before silently offering to do the other hand.

Aaron clenched it into a fist, and he nodded in acceptance, oozing great care.

Silence swept over the small room, broken briefly by the tap running (James vigorously washed his hands like he could see the germs, Aaron marvelled) or the rustling of the first aid kit.

It was odd, yet comfortable, and Aaron found himself turning his wrapped hand in curiosity, checking the stellar technique.

“I learned that in seventh grade.” Startled, Aaron looked up as James put the kit in his backpack, back facing him. “I guess it interested me, to be honest. Being sick most of your life gives you a weird attachment to the very thing, or maybe it's just me.”

Aaron hummed softly, sympathetic, and murmured something louder.

James seemed to get the gist of it. “Mhmm, it's fine, really. It helped a lot after I got it right; my siblings kinda fall into the same catagory as me sometimes, but it's good to know that I can fix things. Make them feel better -” With that, he looked back. “Because they deserve it.”

Aaron looked away, his unbandaged hand clenching. _What if they don’t?_

“Hey, I'm still sorry for what happened out there, and I guess it triggered too many things at once. They weren't thinking, we weren't thinking...” James continued, turning around and scooting towards the other. Not wanting to get too close, he leaned against a nearby wall. “You don't...erm…”

Aaron saw him wring a wrist unconsciously, and winced. “N-no…”

James let the word fade, giving enough time for any further speech, before speaking himself. Aaron could see that the teen was going further into shock. “So...It's not self-inflicted.” A statement, not a question. “...You didn't do this to yourself.”

_Oh, but it's your fault it's your fault it's -_

Aaron felt his bottom lip slide between his teeth, and James watched, calmly transfixed.

Then, Aaron saw the teen’s face fall. “Oh, Aaron…”

_It's your fault, Aaron! Why can't you just listen -_

“Is this...Frequent?” The whisper was a question, Aaron noted, and he found himself raising a hand in a shaky gesture. Somewhat.

_Liar liar liar liar liar._

James scooted closer, looking up. “Aaron...You don't deserve this, okay? Whatever they say to you, it isn't real…”

 _Hah, what's he to say what's real and what's not?_ “I won't tell anyone, but I'd be really grateful if you would be able to confide in me until...Until we can figure things out. Is that okay?

Aaron watched the teen duck away, and looked at his hand. Safe, secure. “...Why.” The words travelled outwards, and the source closed his eyes, trembling. _What's in it for you?_ “I'm just a new kid who flipped out in front of the s-school…”

“Y’know,” James murmured. “My first day here, I was so scared. Being homeschooled most of my life, and the whole ‘walking disease catcher’ thing, it made me nervous to interact. I guess I couldn't stomach it, and I soiled the cutest girl in school’s new shoes.”

Aaron winced, “...Oh.”

“Dolley was pretty okay with it, actually, my first friend and...you probably heard Thomas. Turns out, I had to get over my social anxiety with friends.” Sheepishly, James flashed a smile. “All I'm saying is that you're not alone, really. And while I can't offer much, I can offer friendship, that okay?”

Aaron found himself getting used to the constant querying, each word filling some warmth in his chest. _You're not alone, Aaron._ Maybe Theodosia was right.

“That's okay.” Aaron let the words leave of his own choice, pushing the strings of predetermined mannerisms away.  
He wasn't alone.

Silence.  
A shift in weight.  
A small cough: the bathroom was getting stuffy.

“Are we missing class?” Aaron, getting up, rolled his sleeves back down, eyeing the door warily. “We are, aren't we?” After such a session, especially with someone he'd just met, the sheer notion that he had to go out was, in itself, draining. But he had to, he had to do it.

“We don't have to if you don't want to; I asked the others to excuse us from Washington’s class.” James muttered, “They're all pretty worried about you, and I told them to use their words productively.”

Something in the words made him cock his head curiously, but James shrugged. “We'll be fine in here if need be, but you shouldn't push yourself to get to class.”

“What if I want to go?” Slowly, Aaron felt his voice flow into its normal tempo, and he cleared his throat. “Go to class, I mean.”

“Then we go, simple.” James smiled, a small twitch. “We can go now if you like, and don't feel obligated to stick with it. I'm here until you don't want it.”

Briefly, Aaron recalled similar words from a time long past, and found himself giving the same response he did then. “Let's do this, then.”

* * *

 

When the “Operation” was established, one specific Frenchperson had not stuck around to see the fledgling voyage (and significant crash-and-burn). Instead, they'd slipped out of the cafeteria to relay the information to yet another offshoot of the squad’s little...well...squad; besides, it was foolish not to tell the Schuyler sisters when things were being planned.

They always found out, somehow.

Shouldering their backpack, Lafayette found themself at a courtyard, filled with students looking for fresher air. In their current vision, they spotted their targets immediately: Angelica was seated at her usual spot, fending off another senior idiot, who didn't seem to be getting the memo.

Lafayette walked forward, grinning as the words cleared.

“Aww c’mon Angel.” They winced at the gruff drawl of the jock, who had chosen to plant a foot on the bench where another was seating. Catching the eye of said person, they huffed. First mistake. Then, with a lean, the jock nudged at said person, jostling black hair. “I'm a great catch!”

“Leave her alone, Hanover.” The sophomore known as Eliza shifted away, unsteadying the jock, who just laughed. Second mistake.

“Now come on, Lizzy, it's just in good fun. If your sister just saw how amazing we'd look together, she'd see we can score that prom crown like it's a -”

Three strikes; time’s up.

“First of all, finish that sentence with a sport simile and you'll see me kick a ball somewhere.” It was a miracle that she'd let the guy go on like that, to be honest, but Lafayette found themselves wincing at the tone that laced her words. _Dripping honey, yes, but ready to sting._ “You're an unoriginal, impolite, insecure -”

The jock - Trent - stepped back, scowling. “Now hold on -”

“With a tendency to prey on ninth graders who are easily influenced and intimidated. You have no class, respect or general decency, and when you pair that with a pinch of douchery, you have a disaster waiting to happen so,” The senior stood up, curls seeming to flare, and walked right up to the jock. “I don't have time for you, please leave.”

By that stage, the whole courtyard had fallen silent, waiting for the jock’s reaction. In an attempt to redeem himself, Trent started spluttering out words, only for them to dissolve under an intense glare.

“I think it's time for you to leave, Trent.” Angelica Schuyler murmured, looking him over with disappointment. “I'm not your trophy date.” With that, she turned away, and the place broke out in giddy whispers.

Lafayette smirked as they at down, getting a friendly nudge from Eliza. “Well, that was...incredible as usual.”

“I think Miss Student Body president went easy on the guy, to be honest.” The black haired sophomore chuckled, turning to her sister with a raised eyebrow. “Considering Trent hangs out with -”

“Hey Laf.” Sighing loudly, the senior inserted herself into the conversation before anything was revealed. “What can I do for you?”

Lafayette, however, was interested, staring at Eliza. “Wait a moment, there's someone who our dear Angelica likes -”

“Laf, I swear, please don't.” For a moment, the edge on her voice, reserved for the other Trents of the world, flooded his senses, only to look at the source and nod.

Now was not the time, it seemed; that, or the person was within hearing range.

“D’accord.” The Frenchperson, resigned, redirected the conversation. “There is something that I need to share, though: Alexander is on another personal mission and-”

A collective groan.

“He wants to befriend a new sophomore - Aaron, I think? - which he needs our help in doing it. Alex mentioned that he's chaperoning him as well...” They shrugged, and watched the sisters proceed with their mental conversation.

It was crazy to watch, and when the duo became a trio, Lafayette swore that it was a sibling thing.

That, or an Angelica-thing. But that only worked in dreams, no? They'd have to ask after-hours.

Nonetheless, with a twitch of a lip, and a small huff, followed by a joint nod, the sisters broke their uncanny connection. “Why would he need our help?”

“Apparently the guy is - how you say - very ‘to himself’.” Lafayette, frowning, waved a hand. “And you know us, it's not the best chance, no? Pair that with Alexander seeing that his charge is sitting with Thomas and James -”

“Both of them?”

That didn't seem to go well with either of them, and Lafayette found themselves watching a frantic senior pack away her things. “Who’s with Alex?”

“Hercules went to go prepare for his class, so John I think. Why?”

“If Alex and John are alone...I'm sure it's not going to go well.” At Angelica’s words, Eliza swore softly, now doing the same motions. “It's not.”

_Mon dieu._

Lafayette winced, getting out of their seat, and looking between the two. “...Should I?”

“We'll be right behind you.” Eliza promised, and the freshperson took off, skidding right down the halls.

It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out the scene of the mess.

  
And now, with the APUSH class winding down, Lafayette still couldn't look any of them in the eye, each teen incredibly guilty after a stern scolding from James. While Lafayette had broken off from the group to go find Professor Washington, they assumed that it must have been harsh enough.

It wasn't everyday one saw the three, bundled together at the back, passing civil notes between each other. If the professor noticed, he didn't say anything about it.

Now, Lafayette had some experience in, well, learning new things, especially at fast speeds. While they'd practically been in the country for less than a year, fresh off the plane with minor knowledge in English, they'd taken it upon themselves to adapt accordingly. Hell, they'd even got an early entrance into this class, surrounded by teens far older than them. When they heard just how ‘to himself’ the new teen was, they felt a string of understanding.

It was never nice to move abruptly.

And yet, when Lafayette realized just how late it was getting, their focus was placed on the door, wondering if the new kid was alright. Sure, he had James, one of the best barriers when it came to panic attacks, but they couldn't help but wonder if that was enough.

Had they even made it to the nurse?

Looking back, Lafayette saw Alex scribble furiously on a paper, tongue in cheek, and practically pelt it at Thomas. It seemed the worry was mutual.

However, Lafayette was the going to let this play out; perhaps they could smoothen out some already roughened edges.

They raised a hand. “Sir, may I please go to the bathroom?” A practiced phrase, perfectly executed.

The teen smiled when they caught the professor’s impressed gaze, and when they got the nod of approval, the frenchperson practically burst out of the room, searching the hallways.

It, surprisingly, didn't take as long as they thought. “Laf?”

Whipping around, Lafayette came face-to-face with two teens, looking slightly frazzled, yet calm. Of course they knew James, but the teen beside him, having ducked their head, was glaringly unfamiliar.  
That must be Aaron, then. “Ah, hello James...And?”

“Oh...this is Aaron, I'm sure you know.” They locked eyes, and Lafayette nodded swiftly. A silent agreement. “He's new.”

The teen in question gave a small wave, catching the other’s gaze for a moment with their own. Lafayette felt something stir at the simplicity of it, and smiled. “Nice to meet you, Aaron, I’m Lafayette...Or Gilbert, to friends mostly. They/Them pronouns.” They chuckled, which seemed to make the teen look up, confused.

The poor thing.

“Nobody asked you?” Lafayette took their chance. “Yours?”

“...He/Him?” The response was soft, but the smooth flow of it all made Laf swallow slightly, before smiling back. The teen was way smaller than him, but that voice…

 _My god, indeed._ “That's great, I'll keep that in mind, Aaron. You two off to Washington’s class?”

“Yeah, just taking the longer route. Y’know, testing fate and all.” James jumped at the sudden sound, and practically gaped at Aaron, who shrugged his shoulders. It seemed that talking was on the agenda. “W-wanna join, Lafayette?”

James looked towards the freshperson, raising an eyebrow to echo the question, and Lafayette shrugged their shoulders feigning nonchance. “If you'll have me.”

 _And,_ their mind betrayed them, _if you could continue talking._

Walking behind him, Lafayette made a face. Maybe Alex was onto something?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So Leslie Odom Jr. made me love Christmas carols lol I love Simply Christmas pass it on. And your birb??? Is meeting up with friends they haven't seen since Jan??? Squad assemble???)
> 
> But here we go, have a baguette, a wild Theo and two Schuylers! (Don't worry #AndPeggy is unfortunately still in middle school, bless her)


	5. "They seem to think that order and chaos are to different things, and try to control them."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burr observes the french kid and goes home to some free advice?  
> Also, some introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; Burr's past, which involves corporeal punishment, is touched on. Also has a lot of dark thoughts about life itself.  
> Be careful; your state is more important than a fic, so if you need a basic summary hmu!

* * *

 

Aaron found himself fighting the urge to look back, yet the figure behind him was too interesting to ignore. He hadn't expected to meet anyone in the hallways once he'd convinced James to leave, and now he had a tall teen with a foreign accent tailing him.

Honestly, it had to be some form of lucid dream.

At least James knew them, or knew of them, so it wasn't that big of a deal. Well, he assumed so; Lafayette ( _Laf? Gilbert?_ ) seemed to take a small interest in him, which was odd. The face they made was more than enough to go on.

Aaron wanted to know why.

Strangely enough, Aaron found himself observing the other as well: sizing them up with the same criteria he had for the others.

He - no, they - had height on their side, and when Aaron looked back again, he noticed the slightly heeled boots they had on. Feminine, yes, but they suited the jean-jacket combo pretty well. Their hair, tied back into a stylish low-bun, left their face exposed, and whenever Aaron got caught staring, he darted his gaze back to his feet.

After three such instances, Aaron gave up on even trying to look back, and instead focused on any sliver of conversation. Ironically enough, that seemed to add more pieces to his constructed puzzle.

“What did Wash say about us not being in class?” James, having slowed their walk to a stroll, spoke up. “Nothing bad, I hope?”

Behind him, Lafayette snorted, and Aaron sensed the taller teen move to his other side, glancing over.

Briefly, their gazes met, and Aaron ducked away again. The other, letting it slide, replied. “Well, I told him first, and then let Alexander and Thomas explain their own parts. He seemed to have-” A pause in thought. “- Have received it well by the time the class started.”

Aaron smiled, and nodded. “Thanks for the help, I guess. I'm feeling much better.”

“Anytime, Aaron.” The name rolled of his tongue with a smooth lilt, causing its owner to glance up once again. However, instead of retracting immediately, the two held each other's gaze calmly; well, as calm as Aaron thought he could be.

Lafayette smiled back, eyes twinkling. “I should also apologize for mes amies; they're a little intense, no?”

_Intense? Obviously - wait, friends?!_

Whatever his face did, Lafayette seemed to chuckle at it. “They are. I'm not in their grade - neither is Hercules,” Aaron noted the light dropping of consonants; the freshperson seemed to be trying their best to keep the accent at bay. “So grounding them is harder.”

So they were friends? That made some sort of sense, despite Aaron feeling his stomach flip at the notion. Maybe this meeting was a planned one between the three, and with their obvious recklessness, that could spell out disaster for him.

It wasn't the first time a potential friendship had turned out to be a prank, anyway.

Aaron played it cool, searching for a crack in the potential facade. _What game is this trying to be?_

“...It's fine; I'm fine now.” Mentally, Aaron tucked the question away, mulling over it for a few moments. However, his mouth focused on another question, glancing at James to ensure it was open to any answer.

A tinge of sarcasm decided to lace his next words, wrapping around the smooth query with a raised eyebrow. “Why would they need to be grounded? They're old enough, right?”

James snorted, punctuating the sound with a small cough. “Hamilton and Laurens? In a fight? Practically toddlers.”

“You'd be amazed.” Lafayette had a few chuckles of their own, reserved, and of which Aaron found himself sad to hear end with a sheepish smile. They sounded melodic, in some sense, eyes closing briefly in bliss. “All the other grade nines - ninth graders? - spread their fights like wilderness fire.”

_Freshman?_

“Wildfire, Laf.” James chipped in, and the freshperson huffed.

“Same thing, James. Right, Aaron?”

“Well…” Aaron found himself quipping back. “Less letters though, Laf.”

That seemed to bring another chuckle into the hallway, and Aaron found himself smiling slightly at the sound. Despite everything, at least something still seemed to be going right.

Content, the trio walked in relative silence until a door made the tallest break off. “We've got about ten minutes of class left; are you sure you want to come in, Aaron? Start with a full lesson tomorrow; there are a couple rumor spreaders in this class…” Lafayette had paused at the door. “And worried sophomores; you know how intense they get.”

James looked up slightly, questioning. “It's still your decision, Aaron. Gilbert wouldn't want you to go into a place that's not right.”

Aaron looked at each of them, refusing to bite his lip. “But I-” _Missing class? What will your uncle say about this?! You're a disgrace! You're a -_ “I…”

The world started receding into a familiar white noise, only for a hand to be placed on his shoulder. Aaron snapped back, blinking away tears. “I'll talk to Monsieur Washington, d’accord? Breathe in.”

_Breathe in? Breathe in!  
One, two, three…_

“Breathe out; you're doing great, mon ami.” The whisper made him sway on his feet slightly, and Aaron watched as the smiling teen stepped back. “I don't think I'll see you again today, but keep breathing. You're doing great.”

 _You're doing great, mon ami._  
From Aaron's self-taught french, the words were instantaneous, and while he watched Lafayette send their goodbyes to James, his mind repeated the words with interest.

 _My friend?_  
My friend.  
My friend…

* * *

 

Quietly, the door shut, and the interior students were blissfully unaware of the students beyond the door. Lafayette sat down without a hair out of place, and smiled to themselves, barely assimilating into the class discussion.

Then again, their thoughts were elsewhere, weaving fabrics of “what-ifs?” that flowed into something else. They were so absorbed that a ball of paper to their back didn't wake them, and by the time they heard a distant bell ring, it was all over.

“Dieu, Hercules is going to kill me.” The words, soft, sounded anything but scared.

* * *

 

The rest of the day was...well, uneventful, and Aaron found himself having enough time to fix some new thoughts in his head. Sure, it wasn't the best thing to do after breaking down in the teachers’ bathroom, but it was better than talking.

Besides, he needed to build up phrases for dinner; the most stressful part of most days.

So when school ended for the day, Aaron opted not to check out any after-school activities and headed for the bus, keeping his head low and back hunched. James had suggested that Thomas drop him home, but Aaron had politely declined.

If he could avoid any awkward apologies for the next few hours, then his mind would not be as cluttered when Uncle Tim decided to clean it up: pure logic.

His backpack jostled as he walked, and Aaron sighed softly.  
Well, there was some form of clutter.

Alexander had found him at his locker, lip between his teeth and a set of papers between clenched fists. Aaron noted the scribbled words with confusion, but before he could ask what they meant, the papers were stuffed into his own hands.

A muffled “I’m sorry.” was all he got before the teen sped off, leaving ink to explain himself.

Thomas gave a similar approach, but with a more reserved and verbal manner; Aaron caught the nervous fidgets nonetheless.

_Honestly, they didn't have to excuse your stupid -_

Clutter. Aaron huffed, expelling the thoughts from his mind, and focusing on his steps, the muffled sounds keeping some form of anchor on him. “Shut up.”

The bus-stop loomed ahead, void of people, and Aaron nodded. _I need to think._

  
The bus was virtually empty when it arrived, and Aaron slotted in his card with a quick greeting to the bus driver. Spoiled for choice, he sat at a window, staring at the slightly blurred road as the bus took off.

The whole way there, Aaron sorted out his thoughts, linking names and faces and places and -

A buzz.

Aaron reached into his pocket, taking out his phone. “Huh?”

A message greeted him.

 **‘Dosia:** Hope ur day went well, Aaron, bcuz I'm knee deep in elbow grease. RIP @Me  
[image attached]

 _Knee deep, indeed._ Aaron smiled, stifling a laugh at her forlorn expression, and fired back a reply.

 **A-a-ron:** Gone but not forgotten. Are you done for the day?  
**A-a-ron:** I'm not going to ask how you tripped into a bucket of grease, but I'm pretty sure that's going to leave a mark.

Instantly, three dots appeared, and the teen smiled to himself, relaxing into the seat.

 **‘Dosia:** Thnks for the moral support, Ar-Bear. Finished two hours ago. Can u vid call?

Aaron almost swiped to the app with that power, taking a lip between his teeth, only for logic to steal the reins. _No, you're in public._ The mere notion of being able to speak his mind, or as much as he'd allow, with someone was maddening, and he found himself craving any familiar face with a passion.

He reeled it in.

 **A-a-ron:** In a bus, so not now. Might get back before I have to unpack my day; it's a lot.

 **‘Dosia:** Aaron.

He could practically see her face, concerned, and her voice even more so.

 **‘Dosia:** Vid me the moment you get home?

The bus turned into a familiar set of streets, slowing as a stop was imminent. Aaron, getting up, quickly sent a message back. Simple, yet encompassing what was needed.

 **A-a-ron:** I'll be there. You have my word.

* * *

 

_When Aaron was nine, he remembered hearing a phrase that changed his life, embedding itself, uninvited, into his soul for eternity. He recalled hearing it with wide eyes, cheeks stained, and fingers gripping his chin. Unable to run, they fell upon him, and he listened._

_“I'm going to teach you a very important lesson, Aaron. I need you to focus, okay?”  
Oh, how he listened._

_“Now hold out your hand.” He did, and the words spat like fire. “Keep it there.” He did._

_A whistle._  
A burn.  
Pain, blinding, spread up his arm. “Fools who run their mouths off -”

 _A whistle._  
A burn.  
“- abuse their power to speak, to create, and wind up dead.”  
A whimper.  
If only he'd kept his mouth shut.

 _“I will not tolerate a dead man walking in this house, Aaron. Your parents paid for that already._  
A whistle.  
A burn.  
A sob.

_“So use your words wisely, or the world will use them on you.”_

From then on, the words stayed trapped in his chest, beating against the ribcage for release, lungs fluttering. He kept them there, afraid of their power, and wielded them with the sole intention to survive.  
_To stay alive: his mind would scream._

Words are a power untamed, Aaron knew that all too well. They could hold so much or mean so little, create and destroy, and somehow continue to shape his life.

His world needed them to survive.  
Or die.

He hated them, sometimes, especially when he found the patterns within them. The sympathetic coos of “You poor thing” or “I'm sure they're proud of you” were so familiar, that sometimes Aaron heard the tone in “Hello” or “Burr?”, knotting a clot of loathing within his throat. The words spoke like they cared, lined with soft frowns and brief hugs, and yet it all sounded false.

Fake.  
An illusion.

Words got people hurt more often than not, and Aaron knew he was the product of such a tragedy. _Tragedy?_ Hah, he'd heard enough synonyms among the cracks of a belt, burning lines onto shoulders. They spoke lies and deceit, building up false gods among men, only to tear them apart when the moment dimmed.

They killed, just like his uncle said, even if they held good intentions.  
So he hid.

That was why he held them close, only using them when they were needed, not wanted. The world had no reason to worry about him, nor the words that he spoke. Complacent.

Controlled.  
_I can control only myself._  
_I control my own game._

“I control my own illusion.” The words, soft, entered the universe as Aaron stood at the front door, key in hand, and entered accordingly.

Control was, is, and forever would be an illusion.

The house was quiet.

Aaron mimicked that, toeing off his shoes in silence, and retreating to his room on quick feet. Slowly, he opened his door, dropping his backpack by the door as he entered, and sat down on his bed with a creak.

He breathed out: slow, deliberate.  
A hand reached for his phone.

 **A-a-ron:** I think I have about an hour.

Fives minutes passed, and a read receipt appeared.

Two minutes passed, and his phone lit up with a call. Rolling over, words tumbling within his chest, Aaron answered, and glimpsed the only being in the known universe that unlocked the cage.

Well, most of it. “...You look like hell, Burr.” A dark eyebrow, pierced, rose with a smile, and Aaron smiled back. The plum tone suited her. “Don't tell me you made a deal with the devil.”

“If I had,” Though the screen was blurry, Aaron noted that Theodosia’s dreadlocks were out of their tie, falling loose around her shoulders. “You'd be here, as per our deal’s small print.”

“Mhm, that makes sense.”

A laugh followed, and Aaron smiled, bringing the phone slightly closer. A few words trickled out, genuine. “...I miss you.”

“I miss you too, Ar-bear, but yours must be harder. What happened?” Pulling the phone away, Aaron noted the furrowed brow of his concerned friend. “How bad?”

_On a scale of one to “fuck it” or -_

“Just a minor -” _Major._ “Panic attack.” Aaron swallowed. “My new...acquaintance and my assigned chaperone almost fought, and I freaked out?”

“Is that a question, because it sounds like you already know the answer.” Theo sighed, before humming softly. “Did they apologize?”

“My other acquaintance-”

“Friend?”

“I don't use that word liberally, but they invited me for a sleepover - do people still call it that? - on Friday.” Aaron answered truthfully, knowing that despite the barriers, Theodosia was good at reading his words. “One of them took me away and calmed me down.  
Well, most of the truth. “He's really nice.”

“It's good that you've found nice people.” Theo smiled, and Aaron shrugged as she continued. “If the others apologized then I think it's okay, right?”

“One wrote me a letter, actually- hold on.” Leaving the bed, Aaron brought over his backpack, retrieving Alex’s paper pile. Carefully, he waved it in front of the phone. “All seven pages of it.”

Theo whistled. “Well, at least the guy is sorry. Which one is it?”

“The chaperone,” Aaron chuckled. “Alexander Hamilton -”

“Mouthful of a name, and as a mouthful-name myself, I respect that.” Aaron found himself snorting, looking down at the papers.

“He's pretty much a mouthful as well, but I guess he just wanted to get to know me? His friend seemed nice enough - the french one, I mean -”

“Wait, slow down... I'm lost and I can't get on this ride yet!” Aaron looked up to waving arms, and huffed as Theo calmed down. “What do you mean?”

Sighing, Aaron explained the incident, and subsequently his whole day, and ended it with a short shrug. “I guess it was wild; I really wanted to blend in and now look at me, making acquaintances.”

“:..Hey, maybe this is just a weird way to make friends? They seem nice enough.”

“I don't know...It feels like a trap.”

“Aaron, take it one step at a time. You're bound to find that one of them is genuinely nice; hell, if they aren't, I'm hauling my ass to New York.” A laugh. “I'm serious! You've got this in the bag; just take it easy.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, huffing. “You sure? This isn't like DC: people aren't avoiding me.”

“Because they don't want to.” The words sounded so simple, yet foreign at the same time, and Theo paused at the apprehensive look. “Just - I don't know - get to know them a little? If they respect you enough, then they'll leave when you want them to.”

Aaron opened his mouth, only for Theo to continue.

“At least read the kid’s letter?" She added, her grin wolfish. "Maybe you'll get a kick out of it.”

He shut his mouth, catching the twinkle in his friend’s eyes. “What is that supposed to mean? He's just my -”

“Sure.” The word was anything but that.

“Theodosia -”

“Aaron Burr, let me live my life pairing people together, okay? Opposites attract, y’know.” She stuck out her tongue, and Aaron was grateful that his blush was not visible. “It's all in good fun.”

_Alexander? Really?_

“If you say so.” He grumbled, eyes rolling. “But I'm not amused.”

“If you were, I'd continue.” Theo quipped, only to look behind her. “But either way I would not be able to. Got a call on another line I gotta take.”

Aaron's heart plummeted, but he kept a neutral face. “Software Engineering thing?”

“Game-jam, actually.” Theo beamed. “A bunch of us are setting up a team, neat right?”

“That's awesome!” The raise in voice held all the pride he could muster, and if she was in the room, Aaron would have tackled her. Theo was one of the few people who regarded his feelings with care, and whenever he could celebrate the things she loved, he did so without restraint. To see her this happy was a blessing in itself. “I won't keep them waiting then.”

“I'll catch you later, though, sleep tight.” Theo nodded, blowing a kiss, which Aaron caught with a small smile. “Get some sleep, okay? And read the goddamn letter!”

“I will, I promise.” Aaron, secretly pocketing said kiss (For a later day, his mind would pretend), responded.

With that, the call ended, returning to another screen.  
Aaron was left alone.

Alex’s letter - if one could call it that - lay next to him, and he sighed, picking it up.

“Might as well.” The words, resigned, proceeded him lying on his side, and Aaron settled down to read.

Theodosia’s tease, however joking it may be, hung in the back of his mind, and by the time Aaron had finished the first page, he put the letter down with a frustrated huff.

_Really? I really didn't have time for this, ‘Dosia._

His mind, however, called out the lie pretty quickly, and when Aaron realized that he was relaxed enough to produce a mauve haze in the room, he pushed the pages away with a huff.

“Traitor.”  
The haze flickered, making hearts in the air.

He decided to read it later.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3000 words of fun! Wrote this while the sky was red and raining aha; perfect atmosphere. 
> 
> (Also: If I made a tumblr and/or discord server for this fic, just for basic communication between y'all and me, would it work? I'm really enjoying the feedback on this, and I'm itching to produce stuff because I'm grateful aha; plus I'm craving prompts ^^)


	6. "He's a friend from work!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Talk at the dinner table.  
> And a brief late-night text chat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none really

Dinner was, in Aaron's opinion, one if the most important parts if the day. It was the only way one was able to gauge if the day went well, and if the night would not be troubling, a massive factor when one lived in the Edwards household.

Subsequently, the teen made sure that everything was as it should be, kicking off the preparations with a well-timed hug when his aunt came home; he ignored the slight discomfort of the embrace, and the wet smooch to his cheek.

The giddy words washed over him, and Aaron found himself responding accordingly. This was a routine he knew well, unlike the sudden shock of Liberty High. The words matched like they should, promoting a higher chance of safety, and Aaron found himself easing into the nightly activities.

Besides, it seemed like Rhoda had some form of a good day, cutting up vegetables for some recipe she wanted to try out. Aaron only hoped it went well; the woman was rather sensitive about her dishes, no matter how blackened they may become.

“...And when she found out I loved the colour, she bought three! Three!” Aaron blinked as a goodnatured pat brought him out of limbo, fingers flinching over some onion slices (Rhoda hated the damn things, and Aaron had grown to ignore the irritation of the eyes). “I told ol’ Tim that moving the boutique here would be such a success, and look at it now. First week open, and I'm already staking my claim!”

_Three dresses isn't much of a claim._

“I'm really happy for you,” Automatically, Aaron fell on praise, “You deserve all the success and more.”

“Aww honey,” The croon, followed by a tight side-hug, made the teen grimace, “You're too charming for your own good! No wonder all the girls want to eat you up. Say, when we introduce you to the New York high-life, they're all going to fawn over you…”

Aaron found himself squirming slightly, panicked by the sudden onslaught of information, before it snapped into defense. “I...I hope so.”

“You have little ol’ me as a teacher, sweetie.” The hug was replaced with a hard pinch to the cheek, and Aaron bit his tongue before a whimper could come out. “Gotta make you as famous as your parents, right? Right?”

Aaron nodded, mind set to automatic satisfaction. “Yes, Aunt Rhoda.”

Instantly, the grip left, and the woman turned back to preparing her meal. “Exactly. Now, be a dear and set the table; your uncle said he's going to be a little late, hmm? Something about-” She paused, waving a knife in the air. “Some intelligence report that he couldn't leave for tomorrow. Humph, does he remember that we have a suit fitting tomorrow for -”

The teen, avoiding disaster, retreated before the words began.

* * *

 

When Aaron had first seen the house, he'd ignored the open-plan space and the stellar architecture of it all, and even found himself shying away from the glass and monochrome colour-pallete. It all seemed to merge into one room of anonymity, showing no personality among the steel and brick.

It was far from the cozy apartment in DC, lacking warmth or life among its obvious minimalism; on one hand, Aaron could see the appeal, but the sheer contrast to a life he'd grown to love was too disorienting to understand.

Rhoda, however, took this in stride.

The dining room, paired with high ceilings and a lavish decor, was a room Aaron disliked immediately, the blacks and golds glaring violently whenever he entered. Above him, two spindly chandeliers hung like a balled-up spiderweb, concealing many gold irises within. To the side, a similar styled painting rose high, beady eyes forever pinned on the room.

Aaron had never been a fan of the wretched thing: a woman dressed in renaissance clothing, pomposity swirling in her gaze and wine glass, surrounded by a black accent wall.

The glass table, stretched wide for sixteen victims, was transparent in every way possible; it held no escape for a clenched fist or a tapping of a foot, a betrayal. It was a display case, if any.

Aaron knew it was watching his every move, the room was out to get him: malicious under its riches: lips parted in a leer. There was no escape, no redemption, and no mercy.

Like the painting, he was on display.

So when he heard the telltale sound of a door opening, and a greeting from the hallway, the teen rushed to the kitchen and fetched the dish (some fishy casserole, the smell dictated) and placed it at the head of the table. Quietly, he sat down on the left.

_Showtime._ “Ah, Aaron.” Uncle Tim waltzed through the door, relieved of his suit-jacket, and shook the teen’s hand when it was offered. “Nice to see you're alive.”

“It was a rather easy day, sir.” Marionette strings pulling at his lips, Aaron smiled. “I'm liking Liberty so far.”

“Indeed you are.” The smile was assessed for a moment, and the man sat down with unheard approval just as Rhoda slid into her own seat.  
Silence; Aaron breathed in. “And your studies?”

The mood set, Aaron breathed out, letting the words leave for a few fleeting moments, restrained. His hands, however, followed the known motions of moving dishes around, waiting for everyone to be served before taking his own.

It was polite to do so, anyway.

His uncle watched his every mood, still stoic. “Well, I'm glad you're enjoying the aesthetic of schooling, but this is a critical year: getting to skip another grade will broaden your chances at -”

_Graduading early. Getting into college early. Early early early -_ “I've also made some potential acquaintances!”  
_Wait._

Spluttering, Aaron looked down at his plate in shock, refusing to look up and have it being mistaken for cheek. “I-I think that's nice.”

“That's nice, dear.” Rhoda, swallowing, hummed, sounding more than disinterested in the topic. “What is her name?”

“No girls yet.” Aaron held back a wince at the immediate gender assumption. “Well, I met a really nice sophomore in english - he's supposed to be a junior, but he missed a semester due to illness -”

“The poor thing!” Sighing, his aunt crooned. “Is he alright?”

“I think so,” Aaron shrugged, squirming in his seat slightly. “But he introduced me to one of his senior friends and he's really nice as well.”

Silence.

Timothy looked up, “What business do you have with a senior, Aaron?” The words were sharp.

The teen held the gaze, sensing an oncoming lecture. Those, on occasion, were harmless, but Aaron had learned that dispelling them was a better tactic than fueling them.

Rather avoid the fire, anyway, than experience the burns. As a result, he fell back on cheap tactics. “Thomas Jefferson and James Madison were really accommodating, and I'm grateful that they found me before any of the unsavory crowds did.” Blinking once, he continued with a level tone, hoping the names meant something.

Like a switch had been flipped, Rhoda looked up. “Jefferson? Madison? Sweetie,” Turning, she addressed her husband with a smile, “Isn't that -”

“Two of Virginia’s power families, yes.” Aaron noted the slight pride in the man’s voice, and found himself sitting up at the glow. Happiness for them equally made his happiness more imminent, it was tried and tested. “I forgot that their sons chose to study here.”

“Nonetheless, it seems that Aaron has found some worthwhile friends.” Rhoda hummed approvingly. “Especially since I've heard about Liberty taking in...ruffians.”

“Now Rhoda,” Aaron looked between both adults with interest, observing body language in the case of a problem. “It's rather charitable of them to give scholarships to those who deserve it, no matter their upbringing.”

“Nonetheless, mixing ruffian lifestyles with those of a more - how do I word this - sophisticated character? It's a liability waiting to go sour.”

Aaron, however, was still piecing the conversation together, feeling threatened with the lack of information. “Ruffians, Aunt Rhoda?”

The woman huffed, waving a hand dismissively, “Oh, it's nothing too bad. Liberty recently opened up a scholarship program for deserving pupils in sad situations, and it caused a ruckus. Still does, but the kids haven't done anything bad yet: causing fights and the like.”

_Fights._

With that, she shrugged. “Who is to say they don't continue their ways outside of school property?”

_Fights._

“I'm sure they don't, Rhoda-darling. Our Aaron wouldn't get up to such mischief either way.” Leaning over, Timothy pecked her cheek, and she giggled loudly. “He's got good allies on his side.”

That seemed to calm her. “Say, you should invite them over for dinner; perhaps a three-way family get-together.” Rhoda, brightening considerably at the idea, rattled on. “It'd be delightful having all of them over: the adults could chat while -”

_Allies. Is that all they are to you? People to mine and exploit and take and take and take -_

“They already invited me over on F-Friday.” Aaron swallowing, pulled on a small smile. “Thomas, I mean, asked if I'd like to come. He'd drop me off if necessary.”

The room went silent, eyes unblinking, imploring, and Aaron chose not to shrink under their gaze. Make them believe that everything is fine.  
_Smile._

“That's great; look at you, already making connections!” Whatever he portrayed seemed to stick, and Aaron found himself under the immense praise of his caretakers, feeling more safe by the second. In fact, he didn't notice the table being cleared until an uppity Rhoda refused him access to the sink, telling him to get some rest for the day.

It was immensely satisfying: He hadn't gotten out of washing dishes since Easter.

However, the words that he didn't say still clung to his lips: words about a brazen chaperone and others that called him a friend, delinquents in their own right. Perhaps they were the ruffians in question, a bane to his aunt’s perfect existence?

Maybe they were not.

Somehow, their lives had touched, if only for a moment, and Aaron had an uncanny feeling it would not be the last.

So, as an act of self-preservation, he’d lied: keeping quiet until the words had no reason to stay inside. As he left the ground floor, moving into a room he could truly call his, he relaxed, rolling the tension away.

_One step at a time,_ Theo had said, and Aaron nodded once the words echoed within his mind. He could play this right: he could, and he didn't have to tell anyone just yet.

There was still too many things to play on, and something told him that this was where he needed to be. He had friends - no, allies to fall back on if need be, anyway.

Smiling to himself, the teen sighed, standing alone in the dark, and relishing the silence.

“What they don't know will not hurt them.” Breathing out, he smiled, and started the final motions to complete his night.

_You got this._

* * *

 

_> >>hersheyfrenchkisses has added FBWhyGuy to the chat_

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** the shipment came in this afternoon  & i can bring it over. patrolling tonight?

**FBWhyGuy:** Can't. Gotta help Hugh with his homework, but you can come over and I'll start taking new measurements

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** measurements, mon chou ;)

**FBWhyGuy:** Y’know what, stay at home.

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** :(

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** but u need to hear about alexandre’s new friend

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** i can see u reading this, herc

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** herc

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** mulligan i swear

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** fine

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** he's so small and shy and anxious  & james is his friend

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** and his VOICE mon dieu i wanted to cry herc

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** it was like really quiet

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** but like

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** good hot chocolate in winter when it goes down your throat next to a wood fire and he smiled and i smiled

**FBWhyGuy:** laf

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** and he seems really nice u should meet him

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** yes, mon ami

**FBWhyGuy:** Are you sure you can handle courting three people at the same time

**FBWhyGuy:** I mean, you were doing that before the summer

**FBWhyGuy:** But still

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** herc

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** u are

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** how u say

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** ‘courting’ two

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** give me a semester and the list will shorten

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** and u have not met little Aaron, u will cry

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** trust me

**FBWhyGuy:** ...fine

**FBWhyGuy:** but don't say I didn't warn you

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** d’accord.

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** also, am i still coming over?

**FBWhyGuy:** You have the keys to my house, so knock yourself out. Hugh went to take a shower.

**FBWhyGuy:** I also expect a summary of the lunch fight, because Alex sent me an essay.

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** rip?

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** ...i will bring the snacks.  <3

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Established Mullette! Also Aaron is telling little white lies aha, what could possibly go wrong?  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, which concludes Aaron's first day, because everything can only get crazier from here!  
> Let me know what you think ^^
> 
> (Between the new Hamildrop and the straight fire that is Black Thought's freestyle...Life is so good ahh)


	7. "That thing does not obey the laws of physics at all"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two begins, and Aaron sees how the rest react?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none(?)

The teens around him were few and far between, clustered in groups as they moved towards their respective classes, and Aaron found himself quite pleased by the lack of congestion.

 

It seemed that Alex was right about his blessed locker location. 

 

However, the teen was shocked when he hadn't spotted his chaperone anywhere, especially after waiting a gruelling ten minutes with his uncle, scanning the front of the school for the fast-talking sophomore. When he was asked why he was waiting, Aaron covered it up with him looking for James.

 

At least his uncle sounded approving. Now, as he closed his locker, fingers tugging at his collar (Tim had insisted he wear the damned shirt, and refused to drive without seeing it) Aaron started his solo journey to Math, hoping that he'd already find James there.

 

As he walked, ignoring the small glances casted his way, Aaron looked down at his hands, lightly bandaged as to keep up appearances. Having had to ‘cover’ them up around his aunt and uncle, the teen had hidden some bandages in his backpack so that -- by the time he got to school, that is -- he could put them on.

 

It would be hard explaining where they went, otherwise.

 

Huffing, he looked away just as he rounded another corner, and slipped into the nearby classroom with little fanfare; head ducked, shoulders hunched, making himself as small as possible.

 

Luckily for him, he was alone.

 

Professor Franklin taught math as well as science, which Aaron imagined to be a feat in itself. However, the man somehow made each subject -- notorious for its complexity -- sound fascinating among its trials. He was strict, yes, but only with the things that mattered; Aaron had soon learned that there was more eccentric behaviour than stern.

 

However, while Professor Franklin was growing on the teen, the class was not. “Look at that, the new kid is already ready for the lesson!” Aaron didn't look up as a group of students filtered in, one hollering as the others snickered. “Tryna avoid a fight with the chair? I heard it knocked you out pretty well.”

 

A chorus of snorts, and Aaron found himself shrinking into his seat.

 

When the group discovered that they wouldn't be getting a reaction, they grew bored and settled on some other topic, and Aaron slipped out his blue notepad and pens. 

 

They were colour-coded, a tested way of staying on the ball: he had a different coloured notepad for each subject (school and extra-credit) and a specific coloured pens for his notes. After his aunt insisted on him spending a summer in middle school at a handwriting course ( _“That scribbling is atrocious, dear.”),_ he could say that his notes were comprehensive and neat. 

 

And he had multiple tormentors in DC who could confirm that.

 

More students filed in, chatting quietly before the class started, and when Aaron felt a small tap on his back, he looked up to a smiling James -- well, smiling eyes, that is. He smiled back, waving slightly. “Hey.”

 

James sat down, tugging his scarf away from his mouth, and nodding. Briefly, Aaron caught his gaze wandering to his bandaged hands. “Hey. You good?”

 

_ Lie lie lie lie lie -- ! _

 

Aaron swallowed the demand, shrugging slightly. “...Better? I think the school --" Risking it, he glanced behind him, looking at the rest of his fellow classmates. “I think they expected bigger wounds.”

 

James, following the glance but staying on target, sighed softly. “ I've heard, but don't let it get to you; they'll have fresh rumours to spread by the end of today. Hell, I can ask Thomas to slip some in.”

 

Aaron caught the smirk on the other's lips and chuckled. “I guess so,” However, the light feeling in his chest constricted at the implications, and words pushed their way out in an attempt to rid himself of it. “But he -- he doesn't have to do it. I'll wait for it to pass.”

 

James was silent, unresponsive, and Aaron coughed slightly to hide his uncertainty.  _ You see! Can't even accept help you useless -- _

 

“It's all good, no worries. I'm sure you could just wait it out.” With a small shrug, barely visible due to his jacket and scarf, the teen turned away just as their teacher entered the room.

 

A few moments later, a sophomore careened into class, trying to escape the tardiness lectures. It didn't work.

 

As the class laughed at his misfortunes, Aaron found himself tallying up his previous conversation, breathing in and out, and finally relaxing _. _

 

There was still hope.

 

* * *

 

Math turned into english, which turned into world history, and Aaron found himself glad that he'd managed to miss seeing too many familar faces before lunch. He did spot the curly haired teen at a window seat in math, constellations still mapping his cheeks, but having never spoken with him before, Aaron avoided a potential meeting. 

 

 _It wasn't necessary_ _to engage,_ he'd decided, brow furrowed as Mr Paine rattled on about a project he'd already gotten; besides, it seemed that the teen -- John? -- was trying not to look him in the eye at math.

 

_ He hates you.  _ Naturally, Aaron let his mind fill in the blanks, watching as the dilemma in question moved to the back of the class, sitting at a desk near the world map. Briefly, Aaron watched them pull out books and pens, trying to catch a glimpse into the life that was this teen, only for a throat to clear behind him. 

 

Aaron turned, and Alexander smiled sheepishly, eyes licked on anything but his own. “...Am I forgiven?” Ths sophomore was fiddling with his fingers, but ortherwise tense. “I don't know if my letter explained it well but it was a first draft and --”

 

Listening to the mumbles, Aaron felt his stomach twist in pity; he hadn't finished the letter, but the intent was clear, and yet the teen still had more words to express his feelings, unhindered, unafraid.  _ Words, through and through.  _ Something within him swelled with jealousy. 

 

Outwards, he flashed a small smile, reaching upward to pat the other on the shoulder. “It's alright,” The words, predetermined, laced his pseudo-attitude. “No harm done.”

 

Whatever he said seemed to inflate the other, smile widening. If Aaron hadn't known better, he would have sworn that the teen’s hair quivered. Before he could register the thought, however, he was pulled into a hug, warm.

 

“Oh thank god! I didn't want to approach you in the morning because you might be grumpy and then John said I should wait!  _ Wait _ . Can you imagine?” Pulling away, but still gripping the other's shoulders, Alexander beamed. “That was the worst two classes of my goddamn life.” It sounded far too genuine to be an overstatement.

 

“You should learn to savour things.” Aaron chuckled, mirroring the genuineness, and huffed. “It was a long apology though, I was afraid you were going to start quoting self-help books.”

 

The hands left his shoulder, which Aaron was shocked to notice, and yet Alexander retorted. “Believe you me, if I had research material, I would have quoted Buzzfeed if I had to.”

 

That got a laugh out of him, and he found himself replying once again, words flowing from crevices he didn't know he had.

 

Alexander, unaware, volleyed back with the sole intention of keeping up the conversation. If it was a concious decision, he couldn't tell, but Burr -- Aaron -- was pretty fucking smart.

 

Somewhere between talking about wordcounts and essays-gone-wrong, Alex had settled into the seat next to him, and only Aaron noted it as the class rolled on.

 

“So, I don't know if I'm stepping over toes…” Halfway through the class, Alexander leaned over, eyes trained on the back of the teacher. “There's a project coming up, groups of three --"

 

“The civilisation one? Yeah, I read the line-up.” Aaron had memorized it weeks ago, fitting it in between his multiple extra-credit plans.

 

Alex seemed impressed, despite his voice being lowered. “Yeah! So John and I need a third member and you're really cool.” The veiled question held many implications. “So John suggested that we buddy up.”

 

Aaron, blinking slowly, digested the words with muffled shock, only for his mind to react quicker, yet softer. “So you're using me?” The tone was flat.

 

_ Fuck no wait I didn't mean -- _

 

“No!” Alex, taken aback, accidentally let his voice rise, and alerted the teacher immediately. Shrinking away apologetically, the teen waited until the attention shifted away from him, and leaned back. “You're really cool, Aaron,  _ really,  _ and I'd kinda like to get to know you.”

 

The teen took a breath, smiling. “If that's okay with you? Look, John agrees enough to even suggest the idea -- he's sorry as well, and I'm sure he suggested it as an olive branch?” Alex glanced back at his friend, fond. “He's not one for sharing feelings.”

 

_ Him and me both, then.  _ Aaron smiled slightly at the sentiment, understanding. However, his mind still panicked at tge request, forming doomsday scenarios of just how bad it could go. 

He could see it now:  _ his uncle, sneering at the project and the group he chose and his failure. “How is Princeton going to accept you now, daddy’s boy or not?” he'd growl, eyes alight like the strikes on his shoulders. “Is this what they wanted!” _

 

_ No no no no -- _

 

And yet, then he felt a hand on his shoulder once more, gentle, he looked up into genuine eyes; these were not the type that forced him into spewing knowledge for personal gain. “You don't have to, seriously.

 

_ The fact that there’s an “And yet.” _

 

“I guess it would be a good time to get to know each other.” Despite the lowered voices, Aaron hoped he sounded genuine. “Can't hurt to try.”

 

Alex beamed bright -- the same intensity as the hug they'd shared previously -- and Aaron wished that face would stay on for moments to come.  _ Smile more, Alex.  _ The thought was fond. 

 

“That's great! If you want to, you can meet John at lunch -- even if its brief, since you've got your own crew.” There was something hidden among the words, as Aaron caught Alex’s smile stutter, and raised an eyebrow in concern. Whatever it was, it had to be about yesterday, and it probably was decided upon without his knowledge.

 

Aaron made a note to pester James later, but made his tone as exasperated as he could. “You know I can choose who I want to sit with, right?” Matter of fact.

 

Alex, naturally, backtracked, ducking his head sheepishly. “Of course of course, but yesterday was a mess and we --" He clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes widened.

 

_ Hook, line and sinker.  _

 

_ “ _ I mean -- we didn't agree on anything behind your -- fuck I mean --" 

 

Aaron, however, just smirked, turning to his notes, unfinished. Briefly, he swore he saw the curly haired boy stifle a laugh. “Talk less, Alex. Save it for lunch.” 

 

Surprisingly, Aaron noted just how fond the phrase sounded, and noted that as a first.

 

* * *

 

By the time the lesson had ended, bell ringing throughout the school for lunch, Aaron had created at least twelve scenarios on how the next few minutes would go. Alex had left him alone for the rest of the lesson, and while he wrote down little tidbits he was sure would be tested, Aaron could not help but look back.

 

John Laurens, despite stiffening each time he looked up, did not return the gesture, cautious. 

 

Aaron couldn't help but understand the reasons, although some were more queasy than others. 

 

_ He hates you? He thinks you're stealing Alex? He's sorry from yesterday? He's shy -- no. _

 

Aaron packed his bag slowly, waiting for most of the class to file out, and took out his phone to slide it into his pocket. Alexander sat on his table, legs dangling, and waited. 

 

It didn't suit him. “So we're all filing out now? Let's go, Laurens!” The words rose in volume, and Aaron caught the mumble of the other, turning to watch as a scowling sophomore slung a backpack onto a table nearby. It was black, yes, but by closer inspection, Aaron noted that the blackness was actually a complex design. 

 

Before he could decipher exactly what it was, Aaron felt eyes on him, and looked up as a light chuckle -- foreign in familarity -- sounded above. “I'd say it's nice to meet you, but I guess I blew my first impression.”

 

The words, unlike the veiled threat from the day before, barely held the southern drawl he recalled, now replaced by something more akin to a new yorker. John Laurens offered a hand, smiling slightly. “I'm John, but I guess you know that.”

 

_ The movements were almost as calculated as ours.  _ Aaron, shaking the hand, gave a small smile in return, eyes darting around the teen’s face. “Aaron Burr, but yeah.”

 

They stayed shaking for a moment longer, before John cleared his throat, hand going to rest in his curls. Aaron caught the fingers fiddling with the hair tie, and the other’s gaze tearing away from thr bandages. “Sorry about yesterday though.”

Aaron nodded, gestures dismissive. John’s eyes followed the movement. “It's alright; just a few minor cuts.”

 

“Battle scars.” Alex joked lightly, pushing off the table and beaming. That seemed to get the other two chuckling. “Shall we ride our chariots to lunch?”

 

“Alex, I hope we are not doing the romans.” John, rolling his eyes, retorted, and followed the other out. Aaron, chuckling, stayed slightly behind, watching the two bicker, only for them to slow down to flank him. 

 

“Eww no, can't we do the mayans or even western Africa? Everyone is going to go to Europe for their project.” Alex crinkled his nose, huffing, and Aaron stifled a laugh, getting his phone out of his pocket.

 

Three messages, all from Theo, had lit up his screen, and as the two debated about whether one civilisation would trump another, he replied to the messages with a small grin. 

 

_ Theo, don't you dare model another game character after me.  _ Mentally, the words were anything but unamused.

 

And then, as if the world decided to shift, Aaron felt his foot hook on air, and his phone, resting safely in his hands, flew. 

 

Something caught him before his hands did, steadying him, and in that brief moment of shock, he didn't hear the clatter of a device, screaming endless chastizing when he returned home. 

 

Instead, as his eyesight cleared, he saw John on the floor, arm up, and his phone nestled within a clenched hand. A seemingly impossible dive-bomb had gone right.

 

Aaron felt himself steady, and yet the grip remained. “Aaron, you good?”

 

He turned to observe Alex's expression: concerned. “...I tripped.”

 

_ No shit. _

 

John rolled over, standing up. “Saved the phone though, so that's a plus.” Walking over, he handed it back. “It looks new, so it'd be a shame if it cracked.”

 

His other one had been thrown into an alley wall.

 

Aaron smiled gratefully, nodding. “Yeah...Thanks so much.” Internally, the shock was unwinding, body relaxing. “And nice reflexes?”

 

John waved it off, rolling a shoulder, and grinning, eyes twinkling like the constellations Aaron was creating.  _ Like two galaxies surrounded by stars... _

 

“All good; wouldn't be on the volleyball and football team if I couldn't dive for things, barely felt the fall.” The words were cheeky.

 

Aaron found himself smiling back, wide. His mind barely comprehending the sheer luck of that dive, not that he could replay it. “Still pretty impressive.” 

 

Alex chuckled, starting to continue their walk. Aaron, watching, saw the teen call back over his shoulder, just as cheeky. “Mhm, keep up the tough guy act, Mr paper cut.”

 

A beat of silence.

John rolled his eyes goodnaturedly, and followed. “Fuck you, Alex.”

 

Aaron felt himself laughing as he pocketed his phone, Theo’s messages forgotten, and slid right back into the walk, listening to the two with a new found ease. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'was the nizzle before chrismizzle  
> And all through the hizzle  
> A birb posts a chapter  
> As a small giftizzle  
> They thank and they love  
> All their readers with care  
> And they wish them a great season  
> With lots of memories to share
> 
> (Sorry for not updating last week! It's been hectic and my mind needed to recoup, but I hope you liked it! From me to you, I hope this holiday season is a good one)(Also, John vs Physics has Aaron like "???" Aha ;) )


	8. “Even the best of men can be deceived by their true nature."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Playing games at lunch yeet!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; blood mention, slight self-harm

The cafeteria was starting to pack up with teens, and Aaron found himself placed between the duo as they entered. Impulsively, he turned to check if James and Thomas had arrived yet, and was somewhat embarrassed to see that the two, joined by a beautiful girl leaning on James, were already gazing at him.

 

Thomas, however, just smiled, sending a lazily executed two-fingered salute. The others waved, mimicking the smile, and Aaron found himself relaxing. 

 

_ They didn't mind me not being there.  _ The thought was comforting, and Aaron responded with a quick wave before catching up to his new-found ( _ Friends? Allies?! Acquaintances?!)  _ classmates, who had already reached their table. 

 

It was empty, and surprisingly no teen had chosen to claim it as their own, which Aaron took note of warily. Was it some sort of rule that they owned the spot? Perhaps it was some inbuilt respect, but finding out rang with potentially stepping on another’s toes. 

 

_ No fights, you hear me?  _ The words, internal, chided. Aaron sat down across from them, twiddling his thumbs, and looked around. “So…”

 

There was a long stretch of silence as the three exchanged glances, and John broke it by reaching into his bag, pulling out a bag of chips. “So…”

 

Alexander, propping his chin on his palm, raised an eyebrow, eyes alight with mischief. “So La Ti Do?”

 

That got a smile out of Aaron, and the Caribbean teen continued. “Welcome to the best table at lunch, despite people being late as all hell.”

 

Alex winked, and Aaron hid his reaction by moving to get his lunch out of his bag. He'd made it himself before his uncle woke up in the morning, and after his caretakers had insisted he doesn't need to spend any money at the cafeteria, he quickly learned how to bypass his aunt’s terrible cooking choices. 

 

Besides, the recipes he used were some of the few things he still had from --

 

“That smells awesome.” John, staring at the glass container, topped with a blue lid (Aaron had wanted purple, but Aunt Rhoda hated the shade) and made an impressed smile. “Pasta, right? It looks like it's from some magazine.”

 

Aaron found himself shrinking under the praise, face flushed, so he feigned nonchalance. “I guess…”

 

“Must have a great cook at home.” Aaron spotted the underlying threads too quickly to falter, although he felt guilty about the immediate assumption.  _ Did they know, like Thomas and James? Or were they just prying? _

 

_ Maybe they just want you to open up. _ Theo’s distinct voice, offering reason, got lost in the defensive manoeuvres. 

 

“My aunt makes good pasta.” The response was noncommittal, and yet the lie stung. “I help around sometimes; cooking is pretty cool.”

 

“I wouldn't know; apparently I burn water and somehow break toasters.” Alex joked, a sandwich triangle in his hand. “I solemnly swear that the appliance was out to get me.”

 

“Alex and our friend Gil aren't allowed to cook together anymore for that reason,” John explained, “Apparently they decimated Mrs. Washington’s kitchen and made a hole in the ceiling.”

 

Aaron, a fork of pasta near his mouth, gaped slightly, pausing before he ate. Apparently the sight was comical, because Alex snickered when he muttered incredulously. “A...hole?”

 

“They didn't know how to work the pressure cooker; apparently there were instructions on the side.”

 

“Instructions are for wimps.” Aaron shot Alex a look of sheer disappointment, to which the latter shrugged at, smirking. “At least nobody was hurt except my pride and the pressure cooker.”

 

Aaron almost choked on his fork, not understanding how something so tragic could be dismissed so quickly.  _ Weren't they mad at him?! I'd never hear the end of it, just like everything else I screw up and break and lie and -- _

 

“And the chandelier...I liked that chandelier.” If he wasn't sitting down, Aaron was sure he would have fainted.

 

Instead, he huffed as John broke down into laughter, chewing his pasta as the duo ate their food, sometimes gazing over their heads (a feat, considering their similar heights) to catch a glimpse of James, Thomas or the mystery girl.

 

However, his quiet observations were broken by a body sliding into the seat next to him, and a familiar voice ringing near his ear. “Ah, hello everyone!” Soon after, arms wrapped around him in a hug. “And hello to you too! You feeling better, yes? They haven't kidnapped you?”

 

Aaron dropped his fork at the contact, craning to see the bubbly freshperson, and surprisingly didn't squirm; the embrace was warm, inviting, and he could almost catch the soft thuds of the other’s heartbeat. “Nice to see you to, Gilbert. I'm fine.”

 

“Brilliant!” The sound reverberated through their chest.

 

Aaron almost swore he saw Alex, barely visible in his range of sight, tense up. “Wait, how do you know Aaron?” The words were light, however, and the embrace ended as Gilbert explained, chatting amicably. 

 

He soon learned that gestures -- a light nudge here, a small hug there -- were a constant in Gilbert’s storytelling routine, and after the tenth flinch whenever he was touched, he found himself somewhat liking the contact. It somehow steered him into the conversation with more than just words, making him a part of something; it was odd, but the warmth was curious.

 

Gilbert had draped themselves over him by the time they had finished, sighing happily. “And now we're all here; it's a small earth.”

 

“Small world, but it still fits.” John chuckled at the display while Aaron sighed, hair tickling his scalp; the freshperson had resorted to lying on the top of his head.

 

“Either way, I hope you've been treating him well! I didn't get much time to even introduce myself.” There was a small hum, and Gilbert pulled away, leaving Aaron to feel colder. “Oh, let's play --"

 

“The last time you suggested a game, Hercules almost got a tattoo on his forehead.” Alex cut in with a laugh, before adding a question as the freshperson huffed. “But I'll bite. Where's Herc, anyway?”

 

Aaron found himself chuckling at the pout the other produced, arms folded and back hunched. “He said he wouldn't miss much today, so he's working on the project.” Despite the display, there was a fond note in their voice as they turned. “You should see him go, Aaron; Hercules works wonders on a sewing machine.”

 

“Really?”  _ Well, that was new.  _ From Aaron’s brief assumptions and observations of the quartet, he hadn't pegged the guy to be in that style of life, let alone good at it. However, he couldn't help but feel frustrated at himself for being so stereotypical. “Oh.”

 

John, flashing a small smile of understanding, one that made Aaron do a double-take, added. “It's probably the last thing you'd expect from him, but Hercules balances football and the drama club’s costume design like a pro. Hell, it's obscene.”

 

Aaron nodded, but didn't reply, still feeling the frustration gnawing at his chest.

 

The silence allowed for Gil to start over, nudging the other slightly in hidden reassurance. “Anyway, we can just go around and talk about ourselves -- we all know Alex enjoys that to an extent.”

 

Aaron looked at the named teen, and Alex shrugged. “It's a gift.” 

 

“5000 words in texts, at 2am, is not a gift, Alex.”

 

“How about Two Truths and a Lie? That’d be fun.” John suggested, and Aaron coughed slightly at the latter part of the name. “Pretty harmless.”

 

“If everyone is okay with it, then I'm game.” Gilbert smiled, turning to Aaron. “That okay? It doesn't have to get too...deep?”

 

The confirmation was endearing, especially when he saw the others nod in agreement, and Aaron nodded back. 

 

“Okay, I'll start then, but only Aaron can guess the lie because the rest of you are nosy as all fuck.” John, looking away for a moment, turned back with the most stereotypical smile, resembling a peppy teacher. Aaron knew those all too well; some of them, hailing from his old school, thought it was the best way to get him to talk. They  _ smiled more,  _ but would he have killed for them to  _ talk less.  _ However, the joke was appreciated. 

 

“Howdy, I'm John Laurens! I'm from North Carolina, and I've stolen my dad’s jeep for a joyride.” He even raised his voice to a higher pitch, clapping. “Exciting!”

 

Aaron paused for a moment, hand covering his mouth to hide the laughter, and tilted his head. A second later, he shrugged. “It's the second one; I know your name and you kinda slipped with the joke at the third one, it's the smile.”

 

John made a face as the others laughed, before joining in. “Correct! South Carolina is the real answer, but I've been sent between here and there more times than I can count.” 

 

Gilbert muttered something, and got an empty chip packet to the face. 

 

“Okay, I'm next because John went easy on Aaron!” Alex leaned forward, eyes bright, and smirked, putting on a cool tone. “I've...Gotten into a twitter fight with three politicians.” A finger went up, followed by two more. “I've never been on a plane and I'm...I’m straight.” 

 

Aaron didn't even have to explain his guess, as the other burst into laughter just as he said the last word, getting disappointed looks from the rest of the table. John facepalmed, muttering something in what Aaron thought was spanish. 

 

“Alex is as bisexual as the word suggests, but he's probably remembering the time a teacher didn't understand, especially since it's the same game they were playing as an icewrecker.”

 

“Icebreaker.”

 

“Shh.” Gilbert chuckled, shooting a look at John, who still had a palm to his face. “Next thing you know, Alex has scheduled an afternoon session to educate the teacher about it.”

 

“He ran away when --" Alex couldn't stop laughing, wheezing out his words. “When I p-pulled out my PowerPoint p-presentation.”

 

Aaron raised an eyebrow at the display, but let it be, too focused on the weight in his chest, slamming against his ribs.

 

Did a heart do that?

 

_ You don't have to say it. They don't need to know. Don't fucking say it -- _

 

_ I will not raise a sodomized grandson, you hear? _

 

He didn't. 

 

The game -- if one could call it that -- went on, and soon everyone had a chance to try and guess the lie as things became more elaborate (it was amusing to see Alex being unable to grapple with the fact that John had kissed more people than him) and sometimes more intricate (Aaron had no idea that Gilbert was technically an orphan, housed by a family caretaker). 

 

However, Aaron kept a tight ship, and an even tighter lip, letting only the mundane things slip out. If the others noticed, they didn't seem to call him out; the lack of action only made him more nervous. 

 

At least they knew he was a cat person, and that he liked to cook (Gilbert and Alex somehow got roped into yet another roasting session). He also found out that the three knew french -- in varying degrees of experience -- and Aaron tried out some of his skill with them.

 

He held on to the little hum of delight that Gilbert produced when he spoke, and promptly tucked the sound away for safekeeping. 

 

Aaron was so invested in the little game, that he didn't notice that the time was waning into another lesson, and the bell rang just as John was cooking up an elaborate tale about some prank he'd pulled. 

 

Instantly, the three seemed to droop. “Damn, there it is.” Alex whistled, hands going to clear his part of the table. “But I guess that was fun, right?”

 

Aaron added his voice to the hums of agreement, smiling slightly. “It was.”  _ Don't get attached. _

 

“Hey, we should continue this some other time, yes?” Gilbert had gotten up, straightening their jeans, and quickly hugging each teen as they circled the table. “I've got to go -- you know how it is -- but let's do this again." His gaze landed on Aaron, soft, and Aaron nodded in acceptance. 

 

“Knock ‘em dead, Laf.” John chuckled, and the freshperson sped off into the crowd, a head above the still-seated students. 

 

“I bet they’re going to go say bye to Herc and be late anyway.”

 

“Huh.”

 

A comfortable silence followed, and Aaron sighed, starting to feel uneasy. “Well, I should get going…” Slowly, he started packing his bag, making sure he didn't come off as rude. “It was...nice.”

 

“Wait,” He looked up, and Alex learned forward. The two stared at each other for a while, Aaron growing more uncomfortable under the gaze, and Alex frowned. “Wait, you understand this isn't a one-time thing, right? Gil really meant it.” The tone was unlike anything he'd heard out of the other’s mouth. “Seriously.”

 

“Besides, there's always room for one more at the table.” John added, smiling softly; when they met eyes, Aaron still saw some hidden understanding in his irises. “Even if we might butt heads with your other friends.”

 

“Dolley is cool, though. Jeffershit isn’t.” The mutter, sounding just as childish as he'd expect, almost got him to laugh. However, the words pressed down on his throat, skeptical. 

 

“What we're trying to say is that you're a friend, Aaron, and we hope you enjoy our weird ass company.” John said, shrugging slightly. “Hope that's okay.” 

 

_ A game: This is all a game, Aaron. _

 

“I…” He opened his mouth.

 

_ Play it right. _

 

“I know.” Sighing, Aaron flashed a smile, getting two in return, and stood up. “I'd like to be your friends too, and you're all really nice to me.”

 

_ Two Truths and a Lie. Simple. _

 

“Well, stop by whenever you like then, and I'll see you in APUSH tomorrow!” Alex beamed, springing out of his seat, and leaning across the table for an awkward, yet effective, hug.

 

_ Why the hell is everyone hugging -- _

 

Alex was gone, and after a string of reassurances (and no hug, John had noticed the folded arms) Aaron was left alone on his trek to his next class, flanked by students he didn't know.

 

It felt odd, not being surrounded by friends.

_ Friends. _

_ Ha. _

_ Friends don't lie. _

He felt guilty.

 

Looking ahead, his jaw set, teeth worrying at the inside of his cheek until he tasted metal, eyes watering at the sensation.

 

_ You said you know.  _ Ducking his head, a tear was wiped from his eye, discreet.

 

_ You lied.  _ Someone bumped him; he ushered a quick apology, probably at fault.

 

_ That's not a friend. You lied. You lied. You lied -- _

 

A jagged breath left his lips, pained…

But Aaron smiled the moment he looked up, the door in front of him, and pushed it all away. 

 

The reply, however, sat like a bitter layer on his tongue; the wound stung. Defensive. Misplaced.

 

_ I lied, but I had to. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'However, Aaron kept a tight ship, and an even tighter lip, letting only the mundane things slip out.' -- This random assonance had me cackling oml  
> Then pair that with my friend accidentally face-swapping with a picture of Lin.
> 
> Rip @me
> 
> Anyway, don't mind me lmao


	9. “You have really got a handle on it, haven’t you? What’s your secret?”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron meets the student body president.  
> Someone has a bad night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

 

Aaron could have sworn the days were going far too quickly in his eyes, classes morphing and merging into one big stream of educational turmoil, but he could still pinpoint the hours through seemingly insignificant observations.

 

Well, one could argue their significance with ease, but he liked the sound of his description; there was nothing greater than making sure he didn’t over-exaggerate something, after all.

 

The first came in the form of a slow morning, shuffling quietly into AP History, and promptly being pulled aside for a surprise hug. Once his immediate reaction to stiffen up receded, he glanced upwards to catch the grinning face of Gilbert themselves, and offered a shaky smile back; he would have reluctantly hugged back, but the other’s arms had caged him in the hold, making the lack of movement quite comfortable.

 

Comfortable –

 

“You’re early! Not even Alex or Thomas have arrived, and that’s saying a lot.”

 

Aaron could only imagine why the two would be known for arriving early, and from his two-day experience, he was sure it involved some verbal battle. James did mention that the class got heated at times, especially with the school’s top two debaters having a small rivalry. “Sometimes, it’s nothing more than being petty like siblings.” He’d chortled, shaking his head.

 

It was at a time such as that where he wished the teen hadn’t stayed home for the day, having texted him in the morning for a heads-up; he liked the calmer barrier already.

 

At least Gilbert was around, which lessened his nerves slightly; they hadn’t meant any ill intent so far, and he hoped it stayed that way. “My uncle drops me off quite early, so I guess I am early.” That wasn’t exactly a lie, but he opted to take the bus that morning after his uncle seemed grumpy the night before. ‘Taking initiative’, so to speak.

 

“Well, my guardian had to oversee something early in the morning, so I was dropped off early for today. Hercules wouldn’t answer his phone either, so I couldn’t hitch a ride with him.” Gilbert let go, sliding towards their seat and proceeding to sit on the table instead. Aaron could not help but chuckle slightly at the little wriggle they did once seated, probably getting comfortable. “I don’t mind, really; he’s a heavy sleeper when he needs to be.”

 

Aaron shrugged his shoulders, not knowing how to respond to that; instead, he leaned his shoulder on a vacant spot on the wall, making sure not to dislodge any posters nearby. _He needed a seat, but he had no idea where to start-_

 

Gilbert, however, seemed to be far ahead of his thoughts, adding a quick “Since it’s your first lesson here, I guess I can help you with a seat? Everyone rushed for the back, but the middle is open.”

 

_Thank the universe._

 

Aaron nodded in thanks, pushing off the wall as the other got to their feet and proceeded to name who sat where, which he drank up with hidden gratitude. He’d need that information in the long run, especially to avoid whatever may come his way, to stay of the radar.

 

To...to…

 

“Aaron, are you alright?”

 

An alleyway flashed across his vision, and Aaron shook his head to rid himself of the memory. “I’ll take this one.” Bag-straps sliding off of his shoulders, Aaron placed the bag on top of what he recalled was a vacant desk, to which Gilbert stared at for a few moments. In that awkward pause of time, the smaller could have sworn he heard the hidden laughter of the world in the distance, teasing him for their lapse into awkwardness.

 

_Look at you. Look at you look at you look at --_

 

“Good choice. Also, I’m nearby!” Gilbert broke through the growing haze, and Aaron looked up to see them grinning slightly. “You’re near us, of course, but don’t worry about it; Angelica, James and I will make sure that there is no brutal arguments on your first day.”

 

Now, ‘ _I don’t need your protection’_ threatened to burst out of his mouth the instant the frenchperson stopped talking, but Aaron caught himself at the split-second arrival of a tongue sticking out.

_They were being playful._

 

As for rest of the promise-

 

“Angelica?” _Isn’t that the one who slapped Thomas so hard that the whole school remembers the sound…_

 

“The greatest queen to ever rule, so to speak, but one of the nicest people you’ll meet if you play your cards right.” _Another game._ “I’m sure Alex must have dropped her name at least once, but if I know him well, then it’s the Thomas thing, yes?” Once the sheepish nod came as a reply, they laughed slightly.

 

“While it was true, I think the two are just friends at the moment; she’s friends with all of us, even if she may slap Thomas and Alex on more occasions.” Gilbert shrugged. “I think she just wants people to stop being idiots, and will work her ass off to make sure that happens. I would have been surprised if she wasn’t student body president.”

 

Aaron frowned slightly, processing the information, but nodded in acceptance. “She seems to be really efficient.”

 

“Oh, she is; I think she might be here already – doing her duties and such – so I can introduce you if you want to meet her?”

 

That was how Aaron Burr found himself in front of a small classroom on the other side of the building, sweating unseen bullets.

 

Gilbert, having noted the slight change in demeanour as they walked, sent a quick text to Angelica to warn her of their arrival, if only to lessen the intensity of the meeting. While they were sure the latter would be as gracious as ever when it came to meeting new people, they knew exactly how hectic a morning could be when she was running on low sleep.

 

By the looks of it, however, it was a slow day. “You know you don’t have to knock, Gil! Come in!”

 

Aaron jumped slightly at the sudden words from inside the room, but corrected himself a second after it occurred, sighing softly as Gilbert entered the classroom to see a couple seniors huddling around some posters due to be pinned up throughout the day. Having gotten so caught up with the sight, he didn’t notice that one was approaching, clipboard in hand and pen nestled behind an ear.

 

“Morning, Gil and friend.”

 

_Aaron did not jump; he did not._

The sophomore turned, staring up at the senior with a slightly shaken gaze. The teen before him was dressed to impress, with an unwavering gaze that meant business, seeing all and knowing more; however, the slight curl of a smile hinted at something less intimidating behind the initial shock, which made Aaron calm down significantly.

 

He extended a hand, smiling back. “I’m Aaron – Aaron Burr, just moved here.”

 

By the looks of it – or the way Angelica’s smile grew slightly – she already knew that, shaking his hand with a sure grip. “Nice to meet you, Aaron. Any friend of Gil’s is a friend of mine. Hope the school is treating you well,” There was a pause, bloated. “Well, except for the alley cats causing scenes all the time. My apologies about that.”

 

_Why the hell was she apologizing?_

 

_Maybe she feels sorry that you can’t even speak up for yourself? You could have stopped that. You could have stopped that! You could have -_

 

“It was nothing, really.” Aaron shrugged his shoulders, opting to downplay the situation.

 

“Nonsense. I’m still surprised that it happened, but that’s life, I suppose.” Angelica’s hand went to rest on the clipboard once more, gaze amused. “I have yet to give them an earful about it, but I’ll probably hear of some other dumpster fire they start soon enough. Patience is key when dealing with those two...look at Madison.”

 

Gilbert let out a soft chuckle at the words, reaching forward to nudge her slightly. “Hey, they aren’t that bad! The school would be boring without their lives being here.”  
  
“I forever pray for the political battles those two will have in the future.”  
  
Aaron could only imagine the chaos that could bring, and such a thought allowed for another to slip out of his lips. “Do you think they’d televise it, or censor half of it with pity?”

 

Once the question left, he shut his lips, ears heating up at the realization.

 

A beat of silence followed, stretching into a song of shame.

 

_Shame._

 

_Oh god I’m sorry I’m –_

 

“Oh my god, those poor media people.” Angelica burst out laughing, placing a hand on a nearby table, before extending that hand to knock his shoulder playfully. “I’d pay to see the uncensored reel, at that rate.”

 

Aaron swelled slightly at the approval, joining in on the laugh, and barely noticed that Gilbert was smiling at the sight.

 

“Alright you two, leave the others alone. Angie, what are the posters for?”

 

The group directed their gazes towards the huddling seniors, and Angelica strode over to pick up one of the posters. Aaron noted ‘Night fair’ among the stylised prints and images, and placed the information into words. “A night fair?”

 

“Yeah. We’re partnering up with a few local shops and such to host it, and one of them helped with the awesome signage.” Angelica beamed, letting the poster wriggle slightly. “Of course the stalls are booked, but there’s other stuff on the night like the talent show and live bands. I’m hoping it goes well.”

 

“Come on, Angie, it will go well!” Gilbert scoffed, dismissive of the doubts. “You’ve worked on this since last year, and I’m sure tons of people are coming...It’ll be great.”

 

“The poster already looks really inviting.” Opting to jump into the conversation, Aaron added his own thoughts, eyes glued to the cool colours. “It’s not too bright and obnoxious, and if you place these in and around the area, it’d surely attract a crowd. It’s in a few weeks, right? It’ll do well and –“

 

Aaron didn’t notice the others had stopped talking until he refocused his gaze, meeting a rather amused grin from Angelica.

 

He spluttered. “Well, it will do well. Maybe just...laminate them? The ones that are outside, of course. Just to stop them from wearing out.”

 

Like a switch had been flipped, Angelica’s mouth dropped. “Oh my f – laminate them?!”

 

Aaron stiffened, but Angelica was already striding over to the poster pile, hands gesturing.

 

“That’s...genius! Hey Clara, is it possible to get that giant lamination machine from the drama department? I can buy the sheets tomorrow. I think I have about- ” A pause. “Seventeen sheets at home. We’ll just do the inside today, then.” The room seemed to burst with energy as Angelica asked her peers to move and pack, and Gilbert leaned on a wall with a smile.

 

“Nice one; I’m sure that will save her some time replacing the outside ones. Must have slipped her mind.”

 

Angelica, gliding past them, reiterated that sentence. “They’ve got that right. Thanks a million, Aaron – Hey! Handle those with care!”

 

If Aaron flushed under the praise, he barely showed it; the small quirk of a smile, however, could have given it away.

 

_You did good._

 

However, the positive basking fizzled out slightly as a hand appeared on his shoulder, and Aaron glanced up at Gilbert’s tiny beam. “We should go now, before the class gets too swamped?”

 

“That’d make sense, yes. This was fun.” The reply was instant, if not genuine, and Aaron turned back to say goodbye to Angelica before they were off once more, stepping away from the chaotic beauty that was a student committee trying to bring something together.

 

For a moment, Aaron wondered if he’d have to be in those circles once more; his uncle _would insist_ he had some sort of leadership role before he went to college, and if he caught a whiff of such a thing at Liberty, he’d hound him for information.

 

However, from what he could see, the leaders he’d met were not as stuck up as they were in DC, so he seemed far more willing to try for some sort of position when the time came. Hell, perhaps he could speak with Angelica about it when he got the courage to go alone.

 

“You know...People aren’t out to get you, Aaron.” Gilbert’s voice pierced through his thoughts, hushed and sincere. “As long as you know that.” Aaron looked up at them with a hint of confusion.

 

“I don’t think I’ve insinuated that they are.”

 

“I know, but I understand if you ever feel like that, alright.” They raised an eyebrow, before continuing. “But we’re here, so if you need anything...just ask. You have every right never to follow through with it, but I’m extending my personal olive branch. Okay?”

 

Aaron noted the slight squeeze on his shoulder, and smiled slightly at the recollection of a hand on said shoulder. It felt familiar, and surprisingly welcome.

 

A laugh, lost to the sounds of reality, bled through his mind.

 

 _Come on Burrdy,_ _let more people in...It’ll be good for you in time._

_I promise, okay?_

 

Aaron moved his shoulder slightly, deciding not to dislodge the hand upon it, and nodded.

 

“Okay, I’ll think about it.”

 

Gilbert’s smile plagued him for the lesson.

 

* * *

 

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** Okay, so Thomas is not allowed to catch nasty colds anymore

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** Because then I suffer

 

 **PurpleRain:** I didn’t know I had a blooming cold when I got thrown into that trashcan, dammit

 

 **PurpleRain:** I could not see that guy come up on my left

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** I know

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** But still...I just got it out of my system.

 

 **PurpleRain:** Sorry

 

 **PurpleRain:** On a scale of one to totally fucked

 

 **PurpleRain:** How bad was it

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** Not too bad...I’ve healed worse and failed

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** I’m just glad you are safe

 

 **PurpleRain:** I should have been more careful

 

**[Dollface is online]**

 

 **Dollface:** Boys...what happened?

 

 **PurpleRain:** Stopped some lady from being harassed last night

 

 **PurpleRain:** The guy had friends

 

 **PurpleRain:** Tried convincing them not to attack

 

 **PurpleRain:** Wasn’t strong enough

 

 **PurpleRain:** Threw me into a wall

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** So he arrives at my window

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** (looking like a hot mess, with no flirty connotations on the ‘hot’ part)

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** And I fix him up for school, but contract his cold

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** RIP @me

 

 **Dollface:** So Tommy gave you the cold?

 

 **Dollface:** Oh wow.

 

 **PurpleRain:** I didn’t mean to

 

 **Dollface:** I know you didn’t

 

 **Dollface:** Just stay out of trouble, you two

 

 **Dollface:** Or at least in trouble that I know about c:

 

 **Dollface:** Or I’ll stick you two in a corner to keep you from hurting yourselves

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** Yes ma’am

 

 **Dollface:** jk

 

 **Dollface:** <3

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** <3

 

 **PurpleRain:** <#

 

 **PurpleRain:** FUCK

 

 **PurpleRain:** <3

 

 **Dollface:** See you two tomorrow?

 

 **PurpleRain:** Hell yeah

 

 **SickOfUrShit:** Yes ma’am

 

 **Dollface:** Get some sleep.

 

 **Dollface:** Goodnight, you troublemakers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow...Thanos snapped half of the year away.  
> Lmao.  
> I'm a messy birb.
> 
>  
> 
> All jokes aside, sorry this took so long (Inner me: half a freaking year) to come out! My semester was unforgiving, and I had to take a massive break from thr internet because of it. Nonetheless, I'm here to stay, and I thank you all for the kudos and comments I've gotten in my inbox throughout the year. They really brought my mood up!
> 
> Stay tuned for what is in store, I guess, and shoot me some of those theories/speculations! (Or, if you want to hear me cry about Black Panther and Infinity War...do that too)


	10. "Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron has a sleepover w/ some squad fam.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

There were a few things that made Aaron’s Friday morning quite nerve-wrecking, and that did not include the loud awakening from his aunt, poised at the door with clothes draped over an arm. In her hand, one of his larger backpacks dangled, and once the teen got past the haze of waking up, he figured out why his alarm was not chosen as the first sound of the day.

 

“Come along, Aaron! I’d prefer to see what you’re packing for your little sleepover before you set off. I just finished ironing your pyjamas, after all.”

 

_The horrendously bright ones,_ Aaron noted, _no thanks._

 

Sliding out of bed with a soft greeting, groan suppressed, Aaron responded by trudging around the room, opening cupboards and pulling out what he knew he’d require. It was odd, to say the least, that he was even _invited_ to such an event, especially with the scarcity of it in his recent years. Sure, Theodosia counted as a sleepover, so to speak, but that was different.

She was always different.

 

“Mhm, how long are you expected to be there? Until mid-afternoon tomorrow?”

 

“Well, he said I can stay for another night if needed, but I’ll pack an extra set of clothing just in case.” Aaron responded dutifully, gently taking the bag from his aunt’s outstretched hands (and the godawful pyjamas, sadly) as he packed. “I think I should be back by tomorrow afternoon, Aunt Rhoda.”

 

“That sounds like a plan. I won’t be around until then, so perhaps I’ll meet your friends – don’t crease it.”

 

The soft tuts his way at specific folding styles had made him freeze on the odd occasion, but he’d been ready for that jab. With a slow nod, Aaron continued as if nothing had happened.

 

_No use in internalizing such things, after all._

 

The thought paid off quite well when he was left to his own devices, bag packed (with a less glaring set of pyjamas stuffed at the bottom of the bag) and room tidied; all before he was due downstairs for breakfast.

 

With such precious time present, Aaron chose to whip out his cellphone, flicking through any messages that arrived through the course of the night, as well as the morning news for conversation starters with his uncle. _Current affairs should always be in your arsenal, Aaron! You never know what someone likes!_

 

_Sure, because high school kids care about the stock exchange, and not the super-powered dramatics you skip every morning._

 

For a moment, Aaron could not help but chuckle at the irony of such a thought, especially as he noted the purple wisps of mist bleed out from his palm. For a man so hell-bent on saying that ‘supers’ – for a lack of a better word – were menacing, he missed out on the closest one to home; one, by his own design, who blended right into the shadows he wanted to eradicate.

 

_A chameleon, so to speak._

As if the haze listened to said coinage, Aaron watched as the wisps shimmered into something far more tangible, curling up his arm to create a rather lifelike replication of said thought.

 

A chameleon, bright green, perched calmly on his arm, and while Aaron tilted his head at the creature, arm locking to support the seemingly extra weight, it merely tilted an eye, passive. _Real._

 

“Hello there.” Aaron smiled, bring his arm up to observe it closer. To his amusement, the chameleon merely blinked in reply, to which he smiled at the sight.

 

He didn’t do it often – not after the mess that erupted in DC – but the small bursts of energy, _of power_ , were somewhat therapeutic, and gave rise to experimentation. A butterfly here, a cup there, each little thought somehow grew with the misty entity deep within him; at times, he could swear he was merely hallucinating, creations _so vivid_ that they had to be real.

 

There were times when he reached out, disturbing the balance and dissipating the materialized thought.

 

Ashes to ashes, mist to mist.

 

_Almost real._

 

“Aaron!” The shout made the creature burst into purple, mist lingering in the air, and he sighed. The green hue of the creature still felt vivid in his sights, imploring him to make it reality once more, yet he dismissed the offer, shaking his head. “You alive, boy?”

 

A hand swiped through the air, and the purple mist disappeared into nothingness, as if it had never existed. “Coming now!”

 

By the time he’d left his room, the urge was long gone.

 

* * *

 

School, however, was far from unreal, but it was still quite enjoyable. Such was the presumed advantage of having so many people being in his ‘social circle’. Thus, as Aaron moved between classes, he almost always had a tag-along, making sure to keep him present.

 

It was both a blessing and a curse, if he was honest with himself. The brief interval between math and APUSH was, for the most part, quite entertaining, especially as he was hounded by Thomas for things he liked. ‘For the sleepover’, he’d stressed, gestures more extravagant than his tone; it was apparently ‘imperative’ that he had a good scope for their night in.

 

James merely rolled his eyes fondly at the questions, shooting small looks of sympathy as the trio waltzed into the class and Aaron broke off from the duo. He sat close, but not close enough to walk there and back; nudging past classmates was quite an unnecessary activity.   


“Fine, Mr. Secrets, I’ll improvise...Convincing your further isn’t going to do any good.” Thomas huffed, conceding defeat, and something about the words made James chuckle.

 

Aaron noted the friendly tone in both their voices, and smiled at the gesture. “I’m sure I’ll be fine, Thomas. Really.”

 

“I know, but I’m just making sure. You’d be amazed on the minor allergies I’ve found on Jemmy -”

 

“Don’t call me Jemmy.”

 

“- Over here.” Thomas leaned in, acting conspiratorial. “I could spin the wheel.”

 

Nonetheless, Aaron said his goodbyes as the class started to quieten, promising to meet the two at the parking lot once the day was done, and sat down beside Gilbert just as the room hushed.

 

Through the choruses of “Afternoon, Mr. Washington.”, Aaron almost missed the soft greeting to his left, and sent a brief smile Gilbert’s way before his gaze dropped to his notebook.

 

_He had to focus, after all._

 

At least, to his knowledge, he was ahead in the topic being covered – and by the looks of it, they’d be busy with it for at least a lesson or two. While that was comforting, Aaron refused to show any signs of looking at other topics, even if he was bored out of his mind. Mr. Washington was a great teacher, nonetheless, so that helped quite a lot. If he’d been among his peers in DC, let alone in a history lesson with them, it would have been far more painful.

 

However, Aaron’s idleness had not gone unnoticed, and as he pretended to write down another addition to his summary timeline, a small paper slid onto his desk.

 

He looked up, somewhat startled, and caught the eye of a bemused Alexander, who had his head partially bowed to draw off suspicion.

 

_Oh._

 

With equal parts curiosity and caution, Aaron opened the sheet of paper, reading the contents silently.

 

**Heard you’re busy this weekend. Wanna hang out in the next one? :)* - A.Ham**

***Yes, it’s a drawn out sideways smiley face. Deal with it. :P**

 

_Oh._

 

Aaron found himself to be slightly flattered by the offer, even if the thought of another weekend out was questionable. How the hell would he swing that one around?

 

Nonetheless, he replied in a different colour pen to Alexander’s, glaringly neat blue contrasting a scruffier black penmanship.

**I guess I can, but I’ll get back to you. Depends on if I have any commitments – A.Burr**

 

Gilbert raised their head once he folded the letter, sneakily taking the paper and initiating its journey across the class. While Aaron watched with bated breath as the chain stilled at the chance of their teacher turning around, it got there without any hassle.

 

Again, and again, and again.

**That’s fair. Laf was thinking of going ice-skating, and since we’re all somewhat clueless to the idea, they opted to make it a group event. - A.Ham**

 

_Ice-skating._

 

“ _Sally, I can’t do this –“_

“ _Just put one foot in front of the other, Aaron.”_

 

_He could do that._

 

**I’ve dabbled in ice-skating. Sounds fun. - A.Burr**

 

**Great! Let us know next week. :D – A.Ham**

 

**I will. Thanks for inviting me. :) - A.Burr**

 

He didn’t miss the smile on the other’s face as the paper was passed for one last time, and if Aaron was near a window, he would have noted how the sky sky seemed a little bit brighter.

 

Maybe it was just him.

 

* * *

 

Once the bell rang, Aaron made himself scarce, immediately grabbing his bags from his locker and making his way towards the parking lot. Besides the brief pause in noting a laminated advertisement on a tree, he was out of the building with the initial leavers, foot tapping as he waited for either Thomas or James to arrive.

 

The former made an appearance first, and Thomas beamed once he spotted him, beelining towards a car nearby. Taking the hint, Aaron made his way over as well, shouldering his second backpack.

 

“James should be around in a few; he had to submit something.” Thomas spoke once he was close enough, turning his body to face him, before turning back to open the trunk. Aaron noted another backpack inside already, “Just toss those in and we’ll be on our way.”

 

“Alright.” Nodding, Aaron did just that, before going to take one of the backseat.

 

Thomas slid into the drivers seat, tapping his fingers on the wheel as he waited.

 

Silence. Aaron felt that.

 

Luckily, James didn’t take his time at all, sliding into the passengers seat soon after the silence settled, apologizing for the hold-up. By the look of the slightly redder lips, Aaron presumed that Dolley had gotten to him before he could leave.

 

_Cute._

 

“Let’s get this show on the road, then.” Thomas crowed, starting up the car, and filling the car with some sort of radio station. By the looks of it, the teen was a fan of electro swing, evident by the soft hums all the way to what Aaron assumed was his neighbourhood.

 

Well, the assumptions weren’t needed; the place screamed of some sort of social elite, as his aunt had graciously coined it. Between the house and the gated entrance, houses lined the pristine streets, looming like some sort of monuments. Naturally, Aaron caught himself staring at some of them, but snapped away from the window at James’ sudden voice and the car slowing down.

 

“We’re here.”

 

_Wait...seriously?_

 

The house was _large,_ to be frank, navy-like hues painting the exterior with white trimmings. If one ignored the similarly well-maintained front garden, the house was still enough to cause some sort of awe.

 

Apparently he said his initial thought aloud, but Thomas chuckled sheepishly, parking the car in front of an opening garage door. “You should see Monticello...But yeah, welcome to my home.”

 

James echoed that chuckle, before opting to get out while Thomas finished parking. Aaron, feeling the initial shock leave, followed suit.

 

_No wonder Aunt Rhoda wanted me to rub shoulders with them…_

 

Aaron pushed the thought aside as he fetched his things, following Thomas through the garage to what looked like a small hallway. While he was sobered by little stretch of humble décor, he was somewhat floored by the kitchen he entered, let alone the other spaces he was shown. Be it the dining room, or the small study (“It’s my Dad’s, so we steer clear from that one”) he noted just how attentive the detail was, and much to his surprise, quite homely.

 

_That was nice._

 

Despite the warmer tones in such a big house, nothing compared to Thomas’ room; it was spacious, yes, but it had _character_ , from the telescope nestled in a corner to the ever-growing library of books on a shelf; hell, a small patch of wall was full of pictures, and Aaron noted the varying condition of some of them. It exuded warmth, and by the looks of it, the owner enjoyed the space, probably preferring it to a lot of places in the house.

 

_It reminded him of a friend._

 

“I’ll move one of the guest mattresses in so that we have leg-room.” Thomas spoke up, sliding past the two to busy himself with something else. “Do as you please! I’ll have this down in about five minutes.”

 

Aaron interpreted that as staying out of harm’s way, busying himself with looking at the teen’s book collection. Besides the odd textbook here and there, Aaron noted a few interesting volumes; in fact, the hardcover Queen biography was quite well kept, in contrast to other ancient volumes on great philosophers and scientists. To add to that, small prisms seemed to act as bookends for the shelf, and he smiled slightly at that.

A nice touch.

 

However, Aaron soon found himself looking at the cluster of images on the wall, noting a few faces immediately: Thomas and James at some event, all dressed up; Dolley lying getting licked by a border collie; hell, even a few debating photos with Alex by his side.

Little snapshots into memories he may never know of, yes, but still very real to him.

 

That didn’t stop him from gazing at a few that didn’t have any sort of context, and two images happened to catch his eye, somehow connected.

 

One, presumably of a time of joy greater than life itself, showed Thomas and another teen laying in a field, blanket under them and hair splayed out upon it. At first glance, anyone would admit that the picture was more than adorable, their smiles lighting up the frame as they laugh at something unknown, unsaid, hands laced together beside them.

He did not know this teen, but damn...she was radiant.

 

Looking through the rest of the collection, Aaron noted just how many times she appeared, be it smiling or occupied with something or other, and yet he couldn’t place her among the students of Liberty High, despite one photo having her wearing Thomas’ track jersey.

 

In that moment, he chose to let it be, especially as the second photo of interest may have shed some light on her whereabouts.

 

It was a hospital room – Aaron had seen enough of those – and by the looks of it, the mystery woman was in a hospital bed, sleeping soundly while an equally sleepy Thomas, face half-wrapped in bandages, pressed his chin to her shoulder.

 

If he didn’t know what trauma looked like, then he would not have noted it past the adoration in his eyes.

 

“Alright, I’m done!” Aaron turned around to see that Thomas had moved the mattress off of his bed and brought another through the door, looking quite pleased with himself. “That works.”

 

“Nice one.” James popped his head through the door soon after, carrying things that Aaron raised an eyebrow at: Wii controllers, and a few game cases. “More space to beat you at Mario Kart.”

 

“Excuse you, but Yoshi is a Walmart version of cheating Barney the dinosaur.” Thomas, visibly lighting up at the challenge, kicked off his shoes and motioned for Aaron to sit down. “Everybody knows that Toad is a classy member of society.”

 

“Please, tell him that when he falls into the void on rainbow road, especially when I bump him back into the stone age–“

 

Aaron couldn’t help but laugh at the scandalized exclamation of “Murder!” that left Thomas’ mouth, followed by a quick “Aaron will avenge me!”.

 

“Fool...there are no friends in Mario Kart!” James scoffed, eyes rolling at the dramatics, but staying in character. Tossing over a remote to Thomas, he offered another over, expression mischievous. “Will he join this rivalry?”

 

By the looks of it, he had no choice, but Aaron had no qualms against joining in this little skirmish. Besides, it was a game; one that, years ago, he had played extensively with two friends.

 

Perhaps Theo was right: things weren’t so different.

 

Well, it depended on how good his opponents were.

 

Thus, with a coy smile, Aaron accepted the remote with a flourish, tone nonchalant as he stared at the television mounted on the wall. “If you say so, my dear friend Yoshi...Princess Peach did not come to play and lose.”

 

By the looks of it, his words held weight, and by the time he spotted the hundredth blue shell of death fly traitorously onto his screen, and a soft exclamation of “What about Super Smash Bros?” echo through the room, Aaron was glad the usual weights had lifted into a brief period of enjoyment.

 

Hell, he could dare to call it fun...unhinged.

 

_Real._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pfft tell me who you main in Mario Kart/Smash Bros, and any of those juicy theories/predictions for things...  
> Also Photograph by Nickleback came on while I was writing the photo scene lmao.


	11. “Give me a break! I’m doing what has to be done. To starve off something worse.”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron considers how far the world has come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

There was something eerily warm about staying over at someone's house, let alone someone that one had met days ago. Aaron wasn't quite used to getting pulled into the fold of many friendships, not with the nonsense that occurred in DC; it was an aspect he'd chosen not to consider either.

  


“Remind me never to challenge Aaron to any sort of shooting game, ever.” The fact that he was able to spot a damp-haired Thomas enter the room, towel over an arm, was obscene in respect to his usual assumptions. “He literally wouldn't let me live!”

  


“It's not his fault that you're a lousy shot, Thomas. He did say that he was a veteran in having his ass handed to him.” James, lounging in a beanbag and what Aaron assumed was the most comfortable pyjamas ever, could not help but quip in response. “So he knows all the tricks.”

  


“That doesn't mean he should return the favour my way! Damn, imagine him in paintball or something.”

 

“You’d be the Mona Lisa.”

  


By kill number thirty four, Thomas had disabled friendly fire, anyway. James had resorted to wheezing his amusement by then.

  


Aaron merely shrugged from his seat on the bed, laughing slightly at the half-hearted bird that was flipped his way. “I solemnly swear that most of those kills were just to rile you up; your face was priceless.” He paused, offering a small smirk. “As for paintball, name a time and a place.”

  


“I doubt I'd take you up for that outing, but maybe the infuriating foursome will let you join one of their shooty fights.”

  


“Shooty fights.” James chuckled, beanbag shifting as he moved. “Real mature.”

  


“James, I love you so, so much, but let me say shooty fights.”

  


“I know you do, and I thank you for doing so.”

  


“Oh really?”

  


“What do I have to do to show it? Doves and good music?”

  


“Alright, lovebirds,” Aaron noted how the two broke eye-contact at the words, with James ducking his head in slight embarrassment, and continued cautiously. “You're adorable. I can see it.”

  


“Thanks for noticing.” Thomas took the dismissive role quite quickly, which Aaron noted with a slight uptick in caution, but it was immediately followed with a question to get food.

  


It was at such a time that Aaron turned to the empty bowls of snacks in a corner, heart sinking slightly at the sight. _Had he eaten far more than the rest?_

  


Hopefully not, but with Thomas’ next offhanded comment, Aaron almost choked. “Let’s get something to eat. I think my father should be home, but mom...I think she left this morning for work overseas.”

  


This was not something he could take as lightly as making Thomas and James laugh, or managing to catch the attention of other teens at Liberty High; no, this involved _adults._ _Adults that, from his own information, may know the very adults that take care of him._

 

_Who was to say that they wouldn’t talk among themselves_ _about his hours out of the house_ _?_

 

So business as usual, it seemed; Aaron nodded at the words, keeping the heavy feeling in his chest to himself. It was inevitable, anyway, and while he wanted to cling onto the euphoria from an hour ago, he had to face it while he could. Thus, with a small shrug, he got off the mattress and smiled, reaching over to help James get on his feet. “That’s great; let’s go downstairs then.”

 

The stairs didn’t creak as they left the upper floor, which only seemed to increase the volume of a television below, and once Thomas made a beeline for the kitchen, Aaron caught the slight glow from the living room and a voice that filtered through it. “Thomas? Is that you...and your friends?”

 

“Yeah, hey.” Thomas paused mid-step, visibly deflating and walking into the room with a soft greeting. James, glancing between Aaron and the room, shrugged and followed without a word; Aaron tagged along with an inaudible sigh.

 

The living room was as large as the rest of the house, sporting an array of seating options and a rather large flat-screen television on the wall. The latter, having been tuned to watch the news, flashed with footage from some sort of headline in the city.

 

He wasn’t able to focus on that much, not with the man sitting on an armchair nearby. Aaron almost did a double take at the resemblance to the senior, before noticing that he was being watched, if not analysed.

 

Thomas seemed to get the hint, leaning on the armchair with folded arms. “This is Aaron; he’s new to school, and I invited him over.”

 

“Oh?” There was a veil of intrigue in the sound, and Aaron stopped himself from frowning when he searched for further evidence. “I see.” _It was intrigue._

 

“Evening, sir, I’m Aaron. Aaron Burr.” He kept his reply cool, making sure he came off as respectable, if not respecting. “Thanks for allowing me to come over.”

 

There was recognition in the man’s eyes, and Aaron noted it grimly. _It was bound to happen, after all._

 

“Funnily enough, Thomas never has many people over sans his debating team and James.” Mr. Jefferson shrugged, glancing between the teens, somewhat dismissive. “But at least there are people, I suppose. Welcome back to New York, Aaron; I had no idea that your family would return.” He paused, thoughtful. “It’d be interesting, from what I’ve heard. Send my regards to your...uncle, was it?”

 

Aaron wondered if he’d blinked since they’d started talking, because he could have sworn he hadn’t breathed.

 

_Poor, poor Mr. Burr, stuck in a city he barely knew, despite them knowing of him. Why did you return?_

 

The welcome held no warmth, and Aaron swallowed at the tone. _Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Shut up!_ “I’ll tell him. Thank you.”

 

The world is dying as we speak. Why did you return?

 

_B_ _reathe. Breathe!_

 

“Well, we’re going to go use the kitchen.” Thomas’ voice piped up, wrenching Aaron out of his mental prison, and turned around to leave the area. “Come on guys.”

 

Aaron, stuck in his feelings, froze like the world had stopped around him. He barely heard some offhanded comment as he was tugged away, and blinked away the brighter lights when the kitchen came into focus. Considering how James was staring at him, he assumed he’d done something wrong.

 

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Oh god it’s wrong it’s –_

 

“Hey Aaron,” The teen turned at the call, heart skipping a beat. Thomas, however, merely went to open the fridge, seemingly un-phased. “Orange juice or apple juice? Or something else, to be honest.”

 

_Oh. A test. You’re being tested, you frozen piece of –_

Aaron studied each word at breakneck speed, sorting each syllable into potential problems and potential grips for ascension; that’s what it was, anyway, the need to protect oneself.

 

_A test? No. Tests were for learners; he’d graduated from this years ago, climbing each rung while the ladder splintered underneath him._

 

“Apple, please.” A smile graced his expression, and Thomas visibly relaxed at the casual tone he used. Mission accomplished.

 

 _No need to cause a fuss, Aaron._ The words accompanied a phantom hand on his shoulder, squeezing. _Don’t want everyone to think you’re doing that for attention, do you? Fix your own problems._

 

_Besides, you create your own problems._

 

“I’ll take apple too.” James steered him towards a stool, sitting down in one of them while Aaron took the one beside him. “Load it with ice; we die like men.”

 

“I’m not letting you faint from a bad brain freeze.” Thomas snorted.

 

Aaron didn’t laugh, merely focusing on the granite below him as he recollected his thoughts.

 

If he looked up, he would have noticed the look exchanged between the two, with James raising an eyebrow before they nodded in sync.

 

Silence permeated the room, briefly broken by apple juice and the clattering of glasses.

 

“So...I know you’re kind of new to New York City now, but is there anything you like here so far?” James spoke up softly, pushing the glass into the teen’s line of sight. Aaron looked up – progress.

 

“Well, it’s different...I guess.” Thomas sat down as Aaron started speak, avoiding eye contact. “I left when I was around nine, or was it eight? Can’t remember much from before that, but I like the buildings and such. More people, too.”

 

“Eight? Damn.” James murmured. “Not to say we’re any better; I came here just for Liberty High, Thomas too.”

 

“Well, it’s one of the best high schools in the state, so that makes sense.” Aaron chuckled. “To think I could have stayed here my whole life, but didn’t anyway. Hopefully my uncle isn’t reassigned somewhere soon.”

 

“Hey, at least you missed the initial years of the red wave.” Thomas sighed, taking a sip of his juice. “Hell, imagine having a week or so of school being cancelled while the police dealt with it. It was complete chaos and –”

 

 _The red wave?_ Aaron voiced his confusion, to which Thomas paused.

 

“Oh, I think the news called it other things – you know, the first brutes that sprung up? Didn’t DC have about three of them running around? I know it’s classified as real at the moment, but that year was messy as all hell in the city.”

 

_Oh. He’s talking about the aliens._

 

Now, for most people, alien invasions had been rooted in the category of conspiracy and fiction, with sightings being grainy and not as credible as the last few decades. Sure, some would argue against such claims of mysterious crop circles and cave markings as any other sceptic, citing government testing and general trolling as the source, but that all came to a head in the last decade.

 

It started small, but relatively normal: lights in the air; towns reporting to have lost a larger percentage of their members by paranormal means; hell, even mysterious grumblings within the earth’s crust, but those were quickly placed into hoax folders, ridiculed. Hell, some staunch sceptics had rallied for the conspiracy accounts to get shut down.

Erased.

 

Besides, what was human nature but to ignore the immensely odd and seemingly false narrative? Anything remotely supernatural had to be the product of an insane mind or a brief anomaly in society. With science making leaps and bounds to uncover the secrets of the earth and the universe it floated in, there was no time for harebrained speculations being cemented as fact, be it extraterrestrials…or humans themselves.

 

Not even the intense investigations into phenomena upon earthly soil could stir up a deeper look. A floating boy here – an infant-sized inferno there – none could cause more than a brief joke among the airwaves, let alone bring some cause for more parents to reveal how it happened.

 

Whenever it did, the article was snuffed – shortened to meaningless tabloid.

 

_Super-powered humans? More like fan-filled fantasies._

 

The world continued as normal – surrounded by a universe that should have revolved around them. Empty. Humankind just had an active imagination for fantasy, after all, filling the void with something greater than they were.

 

_Well, until the international space station was blasted to smithereens two decades ago, with any space expedition receiving the same treatment..._

_Until a behemoth of a creature crashed into Times Square only three years ago, raising hell before being blasted down..._

_Until a masked figure rose from the smoke and grime, sending a billboard crashing into the creature before teeth met their throat…_

 

_Until…no._

 

Aaron would take that to his grave; there was no use in opening old wounds.

Acknowledging old deaths.

 

The creatures that crashed into the lives of humankind had, for the most part, had been more of an international panic attack than a fatality-causing mess; despite such advantages, the isolated areas of attack, spread out between two hundred locations around the globe, had brought forth a wave of terror among every member on the planet.

 

Who wouldn’t be scared of the walking souls of destruction, red-plated bodies rattling as hairy manes and bloody teeth glistening? They were the Brutes – rarely seen by the public now – but they were the first, a call-out.

 

To make things more interesting, it seemed that they got the answer they wanted – whoever those so-called redcoats were – in the form of a super-powered kid blasting one beast into a glistening advertisement, even if the kid got swallowed up a few moments later.

 

New York City, for a lack of a better term, became a hotspot for disaster.

 

The world may have just realized that they were not alone in the universe, fighting a one-sided war with an enemy that refused to negotiate, but they had stumbled upon an evolution phenomenon. _Fantasy, meet reality._

 

It was unfortunate that said phenomenon came in fun-sized packages, though.

 

“My uncle was relieved that we weren’t in New Jersey at the time of the initial attack, but I still can’t believe that he came back after all that has happened, and chose not to settle in New Jersey anyway.” Aaron could only speculate on why his uncle was willing to take the risk; at least, from his knowledge, it was not due to his charge’s hidden powers. “DC hasn’t had an attack since the international hit, and with New York City being the place with the highest redcoat sightings, it made no sense.”

 

“Well, maybe it was the money; people high-tailed out of here when the attacks increased.” James commented. “Who wants to be around aliens and freaks, as that one politician argued?”

 

“Honestly, with the way the police dances around trying to protect the innocent and tried to stop those heroes for getting shit done, I’d be calling other people freaks.” Thomas swirled the ice in his glass, huffing. “It’s not like they aren’t succeeding, whoever those ‘revolutionaries’ are.”

 

“I have yet to see anything for myself besides the news reports, but those are quite biased.” That, and his uncle’s commentary was not the most supportive thing to hear. “Is it that bad, the supers and such?”

 

“Well, it depends on the day, but there are multiple fan accounts that post eye-witness recordings of some of their outings. Nothing major has happened in the last few months to warrant a massive story, though – redcoat activity has been non-existent.” James murmured. “I guess you could call the current supers vigilantes by night, and potentially students by day, if any.”

 

“I should get up to speed with that sort of thing.” Aaron chose to admit his shortcomings with a sheepish chuckle. “It was harder to do so in DC.”

 

“Well, it’ll be a fun ride.” James grinned over the rim of his glass, downing the last of his drink. “Between the more active appearances of Hurricane to the speculated rumours, you’ll be spoiled for choice. Personally, I like seeing The Ambassador around, but apparently he’s a rare sight.”

 

If Aaron had been facing Thomas, then the laugh he made could have been far more intriguing, but he only turned when the teen stood up. “Hey, don’t spoil anything for him! I’m sure he’ll find his way to it quite soon, trust me”

 

“The theory twitter pages are hilarious, Aaron, trust me.” James echoed. “I think the internet knows way more than the press at times, even if it’s not taken seriously.”

 

 _If it was, there would be trouble for a lot of people, though, with all that overanalysing._ Aaron could not help but wince at the implications: heroes getting unceremoniously outed by their own fans, thrusting themselves and the families they chose to protect into the spotlight, if not start a chain of reveals throughout their allies. Who would get to them first: their enemies, or the authorities they rebelled against?

 

Aaron could not shake the thoughts of heroes and aliens from his mind for the rest of the night, hiding it under smiles and laughs as a light dinner turned into bashing an overly-dramatic action movie and some feeble attempts at killing his avatar.

 

Those kids were risking everything for what most would consider an uncertain outcome, stopped at all sides by a world that didn’t understand them, all due to their very existence empowering them to help, to fight back.

 

It wasn’t their battle to fight, and yet they’d done it anyway, with all eyes turned to watch them rise or fall.

 

Yet, as Aaron weighed in the possibility of that occurring, he always found himself stopping short of the ledge, the abyss swirling below with a triumphant grumble. Eyes – ever watching – stared up from within it, teeth pulled into a smile.

 

The world was changing, and he had a first class ticket to pioneer such a change...but he couldn’t. He shouldn’t; not with the risk to _everything he’d worked upon, everything he worked towards._

 

And yet, there was an inkling; an inkling that he was right where he needed to be.

 

_Perhaps–_

_No._

 

The abyss laughed as he turned his back from the ledge, gazing back on the path once travelled.

 

_What does one do when you’re being watched? You wait until they stop._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the anniversary of the Hamilton-Burr duel (AKA 'this could have gone better, 1804 edition') , so I had to post wdym.  
> That is all, lmao; hope you enjoyed this!
> 
> Also, behold the shitpost below
> 
> Hamilton: Burr, I'm dying wtf.  
> Burr, indifferent: This is so sad, Alexa play Beyoncé's 7/11 after The World Was Wide Enough


	12. "I need to update my résumé...Would I put 'day drinking' under Experience or Special Skills?"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron completes the set.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; nothing

Aaron found himself enjoying New York more than he thought, especially with his newfound purpose in a friend group. Sure, he knew that he’d have to tiptoe around specific topics, but that was a natural inclination to his way of life. Thomas and James may have noticed it ever so slightly, but Aaron would upgrade his avoidance techniques, if not adapt to their observations.

 

“Come on James, it would be stupid if ninjas beat pirates. I refuse to accept that you’re not on my side.” Dolley Payne, for one, was quite an interesting presence, and by the looks of it, James thought so too. Black hair curled in soft ringlets around her face, the junior raised an eyebrow across the table, amber eyes looking quite amused at the situation. “Aaron, back me up. Pirates are fucking badass.”

 

Thomas, smirking at the table, refused to comment; Aaron could only assume that he was on the side of the pirates, or a closeted ninja supporter. That, or he had no need to comment as of yet. By the looks of it, he was far too engrossed in his phone to care much, and Aaron let that slide.

 

“Sorry...They are badass, but they would lose in terms of fighting skill.”

 

_Not that he knew much outside of all the beat ‘em ups he played as a kid._

 

An arm swung itself around his shoulders.

 

“Dolley...I love you, but a ninja is a far more superior agent of chaos when it comes down to it.” James, returning his own raised eyebrow, huffed. “Let Aaron and I live with our choice -”

 

“Which happens to be inferior -”

 

“Which is superior.” James stuck out his tongue, and folded his arms to show that he was done arguing.

 

Dolley threw her hands up in mock defeat, lip protruding in a soft pout, before shrugging. Her jacket, shifting with the motion, made some of the tassels swing. “Fine, I’ll continue to live out my swashbuckling fantasies alone.”

 

The cafeteria was packed to the brim with students, but Dolley had called them all to the courtyard after securing one of the tables there; it was a chillier option, but Aaron noted the appeal. There were less people, for one.

 

Unlike the rectangular tables inside the cafeteria, the exterior version seemed to prefer a more smooth look, mimicking the flora around it. Aaron could only imagine how calming it would look in the spring, ivy-covered tree in full bloom, flowers falling onto the surrounding table.

Aaron wriggled in his seat, noting how the chair was bolted into the ground, and smiled.

He’d always preferred the fresh air, despite how cold it could get.

 

“Anyway, even if we lost another to the ninja clan, it’s fine.” Dolley leaned back in her chair, blowing a kiss to James, which the latter caught. “We shall rise and conquer in time, right Thomas?”

 

The teen looked up abruptly, oblivious to the conversation; an earphone fell out at the motion. “Huh?”

 

Whatever had occupied him must have been important. Dolley, however, barely batted an eyelid, smile friendly. “Nevermind, it’s fine. How’s the debate prep going?”

 

If Aaron noted the slight reluctance that Thomas held as he placed his phone down, but said nothing of it when he started speaking of motions, potential arguments, and Caribbean-born nuisances being paired up with him.

 

If Aaron noted the way James’ and Dolley’s eyes flickered between Thomas and the phone, he chose not to acknowledge it verbally, not even when the conversation shifted to him picking up an extracurricular activity (and refusing to accept Thomas’ offer of shoehorning him into the debate club without the right application).

 

However, he noted how Thomas immediately picked up his phone when the bell rang, politely excusing himself as he speedwalked to his next class.

 

It wasn’t his place, after all.

 

* * *

 

As for Aaron’s group project, he’d found himself agreeing with Alex’s choice of subject matter, even if it was a compromise. The Inca Empire was a goldmine of information, and he was thoroughly enjoying how much they could pull out of it for their report. Having taken a cluster of seats near the door once it was announced that they would use the lesson to plan, Alex pulled out a notebook and a few pens, while Aaron and John peered at the former’s tablet.

 

“- We’ll have to go the library for physical resources.” Dates were scheduled.

 

“-  can illustrate something for the cover page, and maybe a few of the interior stuff.” Plans were set.

 

“- Are you sure we can cover that all in a single report? Slow down; less is more, at times.” Problems were avoided.

 

Aaron enjoyed it - he did - but he could not help but feel that he was _intruding_.

Alexander and John were a unit, that was clear enough, and he could not help but note it once the thought popped into his head. Be it the way the former punched at the other’s shoulder, or the way the latter smiled when Alexander went on a soft tirade, they were linked, if not completely plastered to each other’s sides. _Don’t let the space between them fool you, Burr._

 

Yet, for some odd reason, Alex seemed to include him as much as he included his friend, sometimes offering a soft nudge with his teases, or just leaning in when Aaron went on his own - but brief - expressions of thought. It was somewhat heartwarming when he got down to it, but he could still hear the pitiful voices in his mind, festering up excuses.

 

_What will they do if the report isn’t up to their standard?_

_What are their standards?_

_Are you one of them?_

_No._

_Never._

 

Aaron swallowed, responding to a question; the voices stayed, crooning.

 

_You have Theo, and she’s far from any of your fuck-ups; that should be enough, right? Who else do you have?_

Another swallow, Aaron tried to reason with himself.

_Thomas and James and Dolley and -_

 

_Are you one of them?_

_You’re not. Just you wait._

_You’re just a route to a good grade._

 

_A means to an end...do not get too comfortable._

 

Aaron let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, zoning back in to Alex reading up on the empire’s religious practices. John, having furiously taken up the task of jotting down some interesting facts, met his gaze, eyebrow raising. ‘ _You good?’_ seemed to have painted itself across his features,concerned.

 

He didn’t respond, offering a small smile.

 

John, however, let his questioning look shift, eyes pointing to an oblivious Alex. Aaron could only imagine what question the other had mentally asked, but he dismissed it with a small shake of his head, shifting in his seat.

_Everything was fine._

 

John, however, kept his gaze locked, searing. Like two suns among flickering stars, the heat they brought could only make him squirm, but he combated it with a cool response. Cold, neutral - like liquid nitrogen meeting the air.

Misty.

 

There was something about his eyes that Aaron wanted to place, beyond the unrelenting feeling of being called out on his bullshit, and it was cause for frustration to build among the fear.

He had seen that look before, and with such a look, came unanswered questions.

 

_‘What are you hiding?’ versus ‘What do you know?’_

 

Perhaps it was a stalemate of will.

 

John frowned, frustration flickering with a twitch of his lip, and looked away. Aaron was grateful for the reluctant surrender, even if he had barely gotten into the beginnings of a fight, and yet he knew that he was merely lucky.

Such questions barely stayed hidden for long, after all.

 

However, Alexander soon tugged them both back into the conversation - oblivious - and the world continued, time passing. Shifting.

 

John was the first to leave the room; Aaron took it as a veiled promise.

 

* * *

 

By the time the bell rang for the end of day, Aaron was exhausted, but wanted to make sure that he picked up whatever resources he needed to join school clubs. It was with a small sigh that he found himself wandering the halls for the right rooms, phone in hand; he _could_ have bothered Alex for some help - being his designated tour guide and all - but it was not such an important request to bother someone with, anyway.

 

Right?

 

_“Only ask for help when it is needed, boy. I don’t want to hear how needy you’re acting.”_

 

So he didn’t, and managed to walk in circles for the last fifteen minutes.

 

Aaron let out a frustrated huff at the sight of a familiar locker - decorated with a veil of plastic flowers, of all things - and stopped in front of it. Wherever the debating room was, he had no idea. It was at such a time where he wondered why he hadn’t taken the time to ask Thomas, or James, for that matter.

 

“...This is hopeless.”

 

A vending machine stood across the hall, mocking.  
He bought himself peanut M&M’s, relenting, scowl evident as he chewed.

 

At least he knew where the sweets were.

 

Sweet-tooth sated, the teen continued his journey, head bowing he heard voices pass, and took a left for what felt like the eighteenth time that minute. The hallway soon came to an end, lined with lockers and what looked like a janitor’s closet, but the sight of a neon purple post-it note made him reject turning back.

 

**Debate club entrance.**

**Front entrance is locked.**

 

Aaron sighed in relief, placing the half-empty bag of M&M’s in his pocket and twisting the knob.

 

The room was dimmed as he entered, maroon curtains rising towards the ceiling, voices echoing just out of sight, and Aaron immediately noted that it was not a classroom, freezing in shock.

 

It wasn’t the voices on the hidden stage, nor the room itself that placed such an apprehensive pause, but the hunched figure in the far corner of the backstage space, fingers pulling at a needle.

 

The door slammed, making them both jump, and the teen looked up from his work in slight shock as well.

Silence.

He smiled. “Oh, hey, you look lost. Need anything?”

 

_You probably do._

 

Aaron walked forward, stepping out of the curtain’s shadow and into the better lit area, chuckle sheepish. “You can say that again.”

 

Aaron, unfortunately, was not ready for the clearer image of the teen, and he swallowed.

_Damn._ The teen must have been at least a senior, if the broad shoulders and large figure said anything about it, and between the concerned gaze and the slight uptick of his lips, Aaron drew a breath at the deep chuckle that responded from his lips.

 

“No need to, I guess. Looking for the debate club?” The teen paused, slipping his needle into the coat he was mending, and stretched, gaze still pinned. The eyes, abyss-like, seemed to stare right through him, and he spotted the sauve mischief within them immediately. _Trouble: The nuanced kind._

Aaron noted the stretch of the teen’s shirt, jacket placed on the back of the chair, and sucked in a breath once more. _Damn, indeed._ The teen continued. “They should be just beyond that curtain. I love the guys, but they can shout louder than the drama department at times. However, you might want to wait a little; they’re practising for something.”

 

Aaron found his voice again, nodding. “Makes sense; Thomas had said that they’d be busy.”

 

He could have sworn that there was some sort of recognition in the teen’s eyes, but it flickered away so quickly that even he had to second guess. “Probably, yeah. You’re the new kid, huh?” There was a brief pause, before the most friendly smile he’d seen graced the teen’s lips as he stood up. Between the heavily increased height difference ( _fuck, he’s so tall_ ) and the way his heart seemed to stutter, Aaron almost missed the added “Hercules Mulligan, at your service. I’m a friend of Alexander.” and an outstretched hand.

 

He caught himself before he said something stupid, and shook the hand with a smile. “Aaron Burr. Nice to meet you at last.”

 

“Well, Aaron,” Hercules rubbed the back of his neck, smirking slightly. “You saved the best for last, I guess. I’m rarely at lunch anymore, sorry about that.” From the looks of it, the teen seemed to coop himself in there quite a lot, evident by the rack of costumes by his table.

 

However, the backstage area was quiet and quite cosy, so he noted that with a nod. “No problem. I guess I’m stuck here until they take some sort of break?” He could only hope they did take a break, but with the way Hercules glanced at the curtains as Alexander’s voice rang, the odds were not too slim. “I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“Well, you’re welcome to stay here for the time being, before you enter stage left dramatically. Need an outfit for that?” Aaron’s eyes flickered to said area, catching the words with a snort of his own.

 

“I doubt I’ll pull off anything dramatic.”

 

“I’d pay to see that, by the way.” Turning, Hercules used a foot to pull over a lone chair, before sitting in his own once more. Head rolling, he stretched once more. “Just saying. I’ll pay good, sell my kidney even. I know a guy.”

 

Aaron almost avoided laughing at the words, but the perfect replica of an eyebrow waggle made him cover his mouth as he sat down. “That’s not something you say to the new guy.”

 

“Well, you haven’t read the cult manual yet. All hail the dank lord.”

 

_Good god._

 

Aaron’s laugh escaped his lips at the perfectly timed moment between his hand leaving his mouth and Hercules’ joke, and immediately slapped his palm back with an accusatory - but amused glare.

 

Hercules looked quite pleased with himself, turning around to continue his work. “There it is...I knew I could get you to smile.”

 

With that said, Aaron could not help but smile behind his palm.

 

Silence. Someone laughed in the distance.

 

“You know, I’m doubting this ‘best for last’ description.” The words were light, holding no wait. “You’re such a menace.”

 

While he could not see Hercules’ smile, it was evident in his words. “The special ones are, Aaron. Remember that.”

 

* * *

 

>>>FBWhyGuy is online

 

**FBWhyGuy:** Well.

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** well???

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** what did you do this time?

 

**FBWhyGuy:** Your house, ten minutes? It’s a biggie.

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** yes

 

**FBWhyGuy:** Not a Tupac.

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** hercules...what did you do?

 

>>> sent at 18:40

>>> read at 18:42

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** herc??

 

>>> FBWhyGuy is typing

 

**FBWhyGuy:** Remember that time you said I need to meet Aaron?

 

**FBWhyGuy:** Well.

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:** :)c

 

**hersheyfrenchkisses:**...this will be fun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pirates vs Ninjas? Choose wisely, jk.


	13. "Everyone else said I was crazy to recruit a fourteen-year-old kid."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A talk in the car.  
> Superheroes: A fandom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

It was quite inevitable that there would be some sort of glitch to what Aaron was calling a perfect streak, and when it came in the form of catching the bus late, he could only assume the worst.

 

Especially when his uncle left him on read; that spelled out trouble.

 

Shouldering his backpack, the teen quietly got off the bus, eyes darting to the busdriver as he thanked them. Each step and word - with the latter holding some moral respect - was mostly attributed to a methodical motion. There was a brutal kind of comfort in such a thing, after all. He didn’t have to think, merely blend.

 

“There you are!” Thus, when Aaron spotted his uncle’s car at the end of the street, with the aforementioned uncle leaning casually on the bonnet, he froze like a deer in the headlights. There was madness in the method, jarring.

 

Uncle Tim pushed off the car, walking over to his frozen nephew, eyebrow raised. “I got your message that you’d be late, so I decided to swing by and fetch you; save you the walk.”

 

Aaron hurled his voice out, keeping his gaze level as he smiled. “Thank you. I’m sorry that you had to take the extra trip.”

 

“Well, rather be safe than sorry. Who knows where children run off to these days?” The teen refused to flinch at the hollow tone of the words, nodding in acceptance. “Getting into all sorts of trouble? Throwing their lives away...I refuse to raise such a thing.”

 

_Yet you did, and she’s succeeding._ Something twisted in the teen’s stomach, accusatory.

 

“I’m sorry, sir.” Aaron muttered, and Tim merely frowned. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“Of course. We’ll speak of this further in the car; your message was quite uninformative.”

 

Aaron would have responded with an explanation of said uninformed messages, but he chose to keep quiet as he placed his backpack in the trunk and slid into the passenger’s seat. Noting how clean the car interior was, he could only assume that the car had gone to be cleaned between the morning and that moment.

 

Lavender tickled his senses, soft, shrouding tension in a pleasantly deceptive veil. Uncle Tim drove off once he was sure the two were settled, saying nothing.

 

Silence reigned.

 

Aaron knew what he must do, swallowing a sigh. “You wanted to speak to me, sir?”

 

The response was instant, as if already coiled to spring. “Cut the bullshit, Junior. Where were you?” Something told him that the phrase would not have changed with a different approach, brute forcing him into a linear outcome. “You were due back at four-thirty today, and you somehow miss a bus for a whole hour? A fucking hour, Aaron.”

 

Aaron flinched at the use of his nickname, before stilling at the side-eye he received for doing so. He averted his gaze, hoping not to come off as defiant. “I got held up at school, sir.”

 

“At school? What do you have to do at school? I didn’t hear you mention it in the morning.”

 

“It was unexpected; my project partner wanted to run something through me.”

 

He wasn’t lying: Alexander had wanted to run through a few things for their project, and it had gone _slightly_ overtime. Pairing that with him arriving at the bus station just as the bus was leaving, and it pushed him back further in terms of timely arrival.

 

However, there was also the problem of not telling his uncle of the project in question, which was mostly to protect himself from any potential disappointment. From Aaron’s past experiments, Alex and his friends reeked of trouble, something that his uncle sniffed out all too quickly.

 

He should have avoided that, and as expected, his uncle picked up on the lack of a name, eyebrow raising. “And who is this partner of yours? That Madison kid?”

 

Aaron responded as evenly as he could, hoping to ease the situation. “Another sophomore: Alexander Hamilton. He asked me to join his group, which also has his friend John.”

 

“You have a project -”

  
  
“World History. It’s on the Inca Empire, sir.”

 

“How important is it that you forgot to explain it?”

 

“I was going to, sir, but it slipped my mind.”

 

“Long enough to have some progress on it? Sure.”

 

Silence permeated in the car, Tim’s jaw working slightly.

 

The silence continued to weigh down on him until they reached the house, and as Aaron quickly left the car, his movements were stopped by a physical weight on his shoulders, palms squeezing. “Aaron -”

 

He froze, suppressing a shiver.

 

“I can only hope that you aren’t lying to me, Aaron, but I’m still disappointed that you didn’t tell me the full picture.” Tim’s frown was more than present in his tone, despite Aaron being unable to see it. The voice was soft, as if they were the only two voices in the universe. Personal. “You aren’t being raised to be a liar.”

 

“It was my mistake, sir; should have been more thorough.” Aaron didn’t let the panic settle in, pushing out a suitable response. “It won’t happen again.”

 

“I’m glad that we had this talk; you cannot slip when you’ve barely begun, Junior.” The hands on his shoulders squeezed, and Aaron caught the slight hic in his voice before it manifested; the force was near bruising, sending shockwaves over areas that had healed over from his last mistakes, and yet he refused to talk.

 

_He didn’t breathe; didn’t talk; didn’t move._

 

_The world seemed to stop, gaze leering from all sides with interested glares, but he was alone._

 

_He’d always been alone, to an extent._ “Esther didn’t give birth to a failure, let alone a lying failure.”

 

_He knew what would happen if he talked. The world seemed to blur._

 

Tim kept the pain for a few more moments, having leaned over slightly to watch his expression. “I’m looking out for your safety, boy, because they aren’t here to do that for you. Get back home when you are supposed to.”

 

_Remember that. Remember remember remember remember remember -_

 

The hands released him, pushing out slightly to make the teen stumble a few steps forward, and as Aaron heard the grumbled “Run along.” among the bursting static in his ears, he quickly found his footing and walked away, unscathed.

 

By the time he’d closed his bedroom door, he exhaled.

 

* * *

 

There was some good aspects to his night, however, and Aaron grabbed onto them for comfort. With his aunt watching some boring soap opera downstairs, and his uncle locked up in his study, Aaron did not have to pander to their audience, and that helped immensely.

 

Especially due to his tablet having multiple tabs open, superheros covering the screen.

 

Aaron liked superheroes - and superpowers, by extension - and he sometimes wondered how the hell he had been born into what some were starting to call ‘The Comic Book Age’, let alone be one of the representatives of such a phenomenon. Hell, he’d barely been part of the latter for a few months. However, he could still remember all the fantastical stories he was told on a bed much smaller than the one he was on, weaving tales of bravery and villainy, of triumphs and failures.

 

It was amazing how such fictional stories could become reality. _How many from the upstart generation of enhanced had experienced a similar childhood memory, considering the perceived age-group? How many thought that they had died when they found out?_

 

He swiped down, vertical images flashing across the screen.

 

_How long had these heroes known? Did they find out in a passive way, or a violent way? Did it manifest unexpectedly, or did they always know they had something within them? Was it something that happened before the wave, or after?_

 

_Questions that would stay unanswered._

 

Aaron frowned at the blog he was reading - affectionately titled as "The Revocrewtionaries" - and sighed. _One could only imagine._

 

Nonetheless, he had to give some respect to the fans of such supers, especially with the extensive knowledge they’d built on New York’s heroes. Aaron couldn’t help but continue to scroll through the various eye-witness accounts, theories and images that appeared on the blog, sometimes opening new tabs to double check various citations.

 

It was research personified, all tying up in a ball of a community trying to boost their subject’s morale. Sure, Aaron could stop the anti-fans and trolls from a mile away, but he enjoyed the overall expression of the majority.

 

_Besides, it involved superheroes, for fuck’s sake!_

 

Aaron found himself chortling at the thought, voice familiar.

 

_Jon would have said that, probably._

 

The heroes of the city seemed to be spotted when they were least expected, with the biggest appearances naturally occuring on summer break. From what Aaron could pick up by the time he’d reached double-digit pages on the blog, there were a few ‘well-known’ heroes that caught his eye, and that was not only due to hearing their names before.

 

Hurricane was a steady presence on the streets, and Aaron could only gape as the small figure managed to send grown men soaring with bursts of wind, or gasp in shock as the same hero was linked to a set of freak storms in Brooklyn.

 

However, the blunders seemed less than the triumphs on such a blog - as biased as it was - and Aaron could not help but smile at some of the footage he uncovered. Hurricane didn’t work alone, as was the general understanding, and the teen snorted at the various frames captured from said videos, painstakingly searched for said partner.

 

Then again, Aaron could only imagine how hard it was to catch a living, breathing speedster on record. From most of the accepted finds, the most one could see of Activist’s visuals were tints of red and black, the latter mostly black from what some had speculated to be the speedster’s outfit. Running with a similar design to Hurricane’s rather casual look - a hooded jacket, mask attached, black jeans and combat boots - one could argue that the green ensemble could be passed to be similar the speedster’s.

 

**“They were kids, after all,”** one commentor, IzzyPie, had stated, **“They would have trouble finding someone to design some fancy costumes.”**

 

It made sense; Aaron couldn’t fault them at all for such an assumption, but there seemed to be outliers in such a proclamation. For example, the teen found himself swarmed with images of heroes that - with even the briefest of analysing - would hint at some sort of knowledge.

 

For one, the fans generally agreed that the Marquis must have asked their partner to change their outfit to something less subjectable to bullets and slashes, especially with the footage of a mugger trying to slash at the hero’s chest, only for the blade to cause no damage to their similarly gold and black ensemble.

 

_It seemed that black was steady choice._

 

Nonetheless, Aaron could honestly admit that he’d been blind to how engaging such a world could be, ranging from the debates on whether the community would ever be able to interview the heroes, or get concrete names from some of the lesser known - but widely loved - heroes in the ever-growing circuit. From the powerful blasts of flame of the mysterious pyromancer that saved Hurricane’s ass, to the keeper of hardened light that was said to be The Ambassador, the list was endless.

 

And they were all helping in their own masked ways, be it by stopping petty crimes or otherwise.

 

The clock on the wall showed that Aaron would have to stop soon, considering how Aunt Rhoda’s show would end in the next ten minutes or so; he couldn’t let her appear in his room and demand to see his tablet, or spark some sort of unnecessary introspection. Thus, with a sigh, the teen powered down said device and placed it somewhere to charge, crawling into bed with a satisfied sigh.

 

If only his uncle could see past the news and marvel at the information he just saw, or at least acknowledge that there was potential in the current madness. _Who knows? Perhaps all those heroes needed was an adult to help them protect the city better? Right?_

 

_Hah._

 

Aaron snorted. _When did a bunch  of adults in power listen to a bunch of teens, anyway?_

 

Despite the darkness of the room, Aaron noted the thin veil of mauve mist across the ceiling, flickering from a solid hue to the night sky, saturated with stars, mocking. _The day they listen is they eve of a dying city._ It was if the heavens had chosen that speck of illusion to cast their wise eyes, voicing urges quenched by a need to stay safe.

 

_Then why wait?_

 

There was beauty in waiting, and there was beauty in spontaneity, but Aaron knew that both had their problems. In his life, the latter seemed to cause more trouble than it was worth, after all. _There was no need to rush, e_ _ven if he wanted to._

 

With a sigh, the teen rolled over in his bed, and the stars fell into nothingness, wishes barricaded by clouds of doubt.

 

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say; lemme know whatcha think/theorise!


	14. "I'm still not thanking it." "He's cute. Go on, pet 'em."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diamonds are formed under pressure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none, really

There were problems with trying to decline an invitation politely, especially without offending the recipient; Aaron could only thank the universe that he was not dealing with difficult people. Besides, if he was, then he would have made an overly convoluted excuse, and not just mention that ice-skating on the weekend would clash with a tutor session.

 

Well, an afternoon of online AP classes, but that wasn’t needed in the excuse. It was inevitable that Uncle Tim would place him on another semester of extra work, making sure that there was more incentive to skip a grade and pull hi closer to an early college enrolment. Aaron was so used to the added stress that it didn’t bother him as much as it should, but he could only imagine how much he would have to push himself to maintain his schedule in a new environment.

 

“Are you sure?” Alexander had shifted his seat closer, chin in palm as the class dragged on; his voice was lowered to avoid being caught. “That sounds like a long ass tutor session.”

 

Besides, he had far more acquaintances who seemed to enjoy his company, if any. “I’d ask my uncle if I could go, but I went to Thomas’ last weekend and missed my tutor session then. Don’t want to push it.” Aaron was sure that he’d only gotten the pass due to who he was with, after all. He could only imagine how the quartet would fare under his guardians’ critical eyes. “Can I reschedule? Maybe a movie or something.”

 

They broke apart for a moment, scribbling furiously as eyes swept across the room, before deeming it safe to reconvene once more. John snorted, leaning back in his window seat.

 

“That’d be great, Aaron. Just let us know when you’re free.” Alex shrugged, a somewhat sad smile on his face, before reaching over to pat the other’s shoulder twice. “We’ll have to see you skate on another Saturday, huh?”  
  
“Sounds like a plan.” Aaron let the words roll out with a small smile of his own, mentally sighing. “You guys have fun out there, I guess.”

 

“You too. Show that tutor who’s the boss.”

 

Their conversation dwindled into nothingness as the lesson progressed, and stayed on varying degrees of disappointment and acceptance as the rest of the quartet were made aware. Aaron almost found himself caving when Gilbert offered to pick him up after the session. Nonetheless, he managed to hold on long enough to get through the day, and promptly avoid meeting anyone he knew on his walk back home.

 

His uncle, as discussed in the morning, would be waiting at the bus-stop to ensure that his nephew came back on time, if only for a little while.

It was humiliating.

 

At least the drive back held nothing but perfect hits and dodges, which seemed to calm him more than anything. For one, Uncle Tim was in a good mood, talking about a meeting he had with a few old friends. From the looks of it, said friends may be joining him for brunch soon, if not in a day’s time; on the other hand, Aaron would probably be dragged into whatever boring conversation they deemed fit, shifting his opinions to appease the general audience.

 

Yet, he took the afternoon as a solid win, cruising through dinner without a hitch, and settling into his covers with his tablet on incognito mode and a new selection of blog posts and tweets.

Sleep found him in the early hours of the morning.

By the time Aaron woke up to the smell of pancakes, the sun had already started creeping through a crack in his curtains, falling across his bed. With a yawn, he stretched, spending a few extra moments with his eyes closed before kicking off the covers.

 

_Breathe in. One, two, three, four..._

Saturday: A good day.

_Breathe out._

 

His routine fell into place within moments, bed made and towel draped across his shoulder, only for the latter to move to his waist after a quick shower. Slippers on – grey, fuzzy – Aaron made his way to the kitchen, meeting the wide smile of his busy aunt.

 

And a messy kitchen, of course. “Ah, good morning darling. You’re awake!” Aaron stood still as flour coated hands held him at arms length, before he moved forward for a light kiss on his forehead. “Pancakes are on the counter. Your uncle is having a few friends over today, so I’m going to try and get a cake in the oven before they arrive.” Rhoda was not the best baker. “I’ll need you to run to the store and fetch me some cream cheese, if possible.”

 

Aaron checked the time; it’d take some time for him to get that sorted out, but fresh air was a godsend. “No problem, Aunt Rhoda. I can do that once I’m done eating.”

 

“Excellent!” Hands turning him to face the counter, Aaron walked away from his busy aunt, opting to sit at the kitchen island while she rushed about. From mere observation, it seemed that she was opting to create a red velvet cake from scratch, and as he watched her movements, instructions floated into his head. _Oh god._

 

He could already see disaster in the horizon. “Aunt Rhoda, how much cocoa powder did you use in the batter?”

 

There was an offhanded reply, dismissive.

 

Aaron sighed, replying with what he hoped was a polite suggestion, only to receive an equally dismissive reply.

 

“I’ve done this many times, Aaron. Don’t you worry; I am a professional. If not, I have the dessert book on hand.” She had it covered, after all, messy fingers staining a handwritten book, an heirloom in his eyes. “Just finish your pancakes and fetch the buttermilk -” Cream _cheese._ “So that I can layer this beauty.”

 

Aaron nodded reluctantly, eyes opting to focus on the book upon the counter until he was finished, quickly making his leave.

 

The day wasn’t too chilly, hands stuffed into his jacket pockets mostly out of habit, feeling the wallet (with one of his aunt's many cards) that was nestled in a palm. He wouldn’t need to use his metro-card for the trip, thankfully, and thus took the shortest route to a small shopping centre a few blocks away.

 

The cars had barely started to occupy parking spaces, pathways littered with elderly early birds, and Aaron slowed his pace to match the calm of it all. Some stores hadn’t opened their doors yet, but his two services of choice were open for business: the small bank in the corner, and the grocery store. Thus, with a nod, the teen walked into the former, joining the small line for the ATM, just behind a burly man and his bullmastiff, with the latter donned in a striped bandanna.

 

The dog turned at his presence, eyes wide and curious, and yipped. Aaron smiled, waving slightly, and the dog yipped once more, albeit louder.

 

“It looks like Reggie likes you.” Aaron looked up at the moustachioed face, immediately noticing the fond smile on the man. “He’s only vocal and polite with people he likes, the big guy. You can pet him, if you want.”

 

The mastiff must have registered the words as familiar, yipping loudly. From his seated position, a tail swept energetically across the path, ecstatic at the prospect. Aaron chuckled, crouching to give the pup what he craved. “He’s a handsome pup.”

 

“He’ll be two in a week or so. I’m going to invite a few of his playmates over for a party – Excuse me.” The man chuckled, stepping forward slightly to use the ATM, leaving Reggie to tug on his leash for more pets.

 

“Well, happy early birthday, Reggie.” Aaron murmured, only to yelp softly as the dog got a long lick across his cheek, yipping happily. “You’re a good dog.”

 

“I’m sure he’d agree.”

 

“Hah!”

 

The little interaction ended as soon as the man finished drawing money, and Aaron waved as the two took off to their next destination. The fuzzy feeling of playing with the bull mastiff stayed with him long after he drew some cash, winding itself into his walk as he entered the grocery store.

 

The interior was quite busy, trolleys already starting to clog up the fresh produce sections as early birds looked for ripe pickings, while others scoped what was offered by the bakery. Naturally, Aaron avoided the rush to scan the refrigerated areas, quickly spotting the brand of cream cheese that would save his aunt’s baking the most, picking up two tubs.

 

However, he stopped by the sweets aisle for a chocolate bar.

 

It was in such a moment that his phone rang, vibrating three times in his pocket, and without any thought he placed the tubs down to retrieve it. **Unknown Number.** Odd.

 

Against better judgement, he answered it; the voice behind the call crackled to life, robotic.

 

“ _ **It’s time. Stay calm.”**_

 

Aaron froze, eyes widening in shock. The words almost felt like they had pinned him in place, only for his lips to stutter a reply. “Wait -”

 

“ _ **There’s no time to talk of this, trust me. Stay calm. Follow your gut.”**_ The voice continued, sounding more robotic by the second. _**“Trust me. I will watch.”**_

 

Aaron readied himself for another question, only for the call to drop with a bang -

_Wait._

 

The bang was not from the phone, and it confirmed that observation by sounding off three more times. Gunshots.

 

The lights went out.

 

Chaos erupted in the store.

 

Aaron dropped to the floor on instinct, looking up and down the aisle as people ran past it. Another gunshot rang through the store, followed by the sounds of gruff voices, and he opted to shuffle in the opposite direction. Fear clawed at his nerves, making his movements feel slow.

 

Time had slowed down, as if taunting his acts to rid himself of his problem, and Aaron swallowed the whimper that had settled in his throat.

 

There was another gunshot, and something shattered. Glass? _Fuck fuck fuck fuck please no -_

 

More screams followed among the voices; Aaron had spotted at least two giving orders. _“_ Don’t move!”

 

_Where are they -_ “Hey, you!”

 

Aaron froze, whirling back to the sight of a masked man, hand curled around a glock, and shivered at the cold gaze he seemed to hold. He was tall, sporting broad shoulders and a well-trained physique. A tank. “Get over here, kid!” The demand only made Aaron whimper aloud, legs refusing to cooperate. _No no no no -_

 

“Are you fucking deaf, kid! Get over with the others, or I’ll make you.” The criminal stepped forward, shoulders stiff, and growled out his words. “Do you want to die, kid? No? Then listen to me!”

 

Yet, as Aaron willed himself to move forward, his legs barely moved a muscle, refusing to give in to the man’s demands. Screams still rang around him, void of the gunshots from before, and while each high pitched wail made him flinch, it only impeded his progress.

 

_Fear truly paralysed a man, it seems._

 

The criminal however, seemed to have grown tired of his own benevolence, especially when he noticed what was in the teen’s hand. “You called the cops on us?!” Aaron glanced down at the phone in shock, mouth opening to defend himself. _I didn’t. I didn’t!_ “You’re done for, kid!”

 

Lunging forward, the man yanked Aaron towards him, grip harsh as he wrenched the phone out of his hand before throwing him to the floor. A spike of pain travelled up the teen’s spine as he tumbled back, skidding slightly from the force of his landing, blinding.

 

_Blinding._

_You’re going to die._

 

 

_You’re going to die. You’re going to die! You’re going to die!_

 

Mauve clouded his vision, blurring the sight of the man crushing his phone under a heel.

 

_You’re going to die. You’re going to die! You’re going to die!_

 

A force stirred within his chest, threatening to punch through his ribcage.

 

_You’re going to die...No._

 

Something growled from the shadows, close.

 

Aaron snapped back into reality at the sound, looking up at the startled criminal as he scanned the aisle for the source. The growls, however, merely increased in volume, slowly reverberating into a symphony of hostility.

 

It was a dog. It had to be.

 

Aaron, however, could feel something besides that observation. _It wasn’t only a dog._

 

From the shadows, a giant mass sprang at the man, knocking him onto the ground. The thud was loud, if not sickening, but the heaving mass of an overly large bullmastiff with a striped bandana kept the unconscious man pinned, slobber falling among mauve mist. _Real, but not real._ Said mist curled its way back to his own body, creating neat little strings among the darkened floor. _It was his._

 

_It wasn’t real. Not really._ As if the dog acknowledged the observation, it looked back with a nod, before seemingly waiting instructions. A puppet. A knight, awaiting a quest.

 

Aaron was its king. _Follow you gut._

 

_Why wait?_

 

Aaron raised a hand, shaky, and the giant hound raced off, sending a monstrous howl into the store, and releasing a new sort of scream from its visitors.

 

“ _Only the men with guns.”_ His mind seemed to scream, curling into himself as chaos erupted around him. It was as if the dog’s path was open to him, every pounce and swipe being seen from exterior eyes. _Not his own. Not really. “Keep the rest safe.”_

 

Then it stopped, and Aaron let out a strangled whine as his creation burst into nothingness, mauve mist springing into the air in excess, while the strings snapped out of sight.

 

Silence permeated the store, and Aaron savoured the quiet.

 

Just him, an unconscious criminal, and an aisle of sweets.

 

He wasn’t hungry.

 

_Holy fuck._

 

* * *

 

 

**HostisPublicus:** John. Check the news.

 

**GottaGoFast:** What happened this time?

 

**HostisPublicus:** It’s fucking insane. I’m not even joking.

 

**HostisPublicus:** Apparently some mysterious super fucked up a whole hostage situation in a grocery store.

 

**GottaGoFast:** I just saw it.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Like, holy shit. Are they new?

 

**HostisPublicus:** Maybe??? They weren’t seen by everyone, but they left their mark.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Well duh. There’s purple shit all over the place.

 

**HostisPublicus:** If they are new...I wonder if they’re staying.

 

**HostisPublicus:** It’d be fun to have more heroes around here.

 

**GottaGoFast:** If they are, then they should watch their back. New people are at risk.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Just saying.

 

**HostisPublicus:** Well true.

 

**HostisPublicus:** If we see them, we’ll offer the advice then.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Gotcha.

 

**HostisPublicus:** Mhm.

 

>>> GottaGoFast is typing

 

**GottaGoFast:** Well, what do you think they’re going to call them?

 

**GottaGoFast:** Y’know, until they come out and tell us? Mist man? The mist?

 

**HostisPublicus:** Well, I don’t know. Twitter is already going at it.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Any good ones?

 

**GottaGoFast:** There must be something cool?

 

**HostisPublicus:** Well, there is one.

 

**GottaGoFast:** Aight.

 

**GottaGoFast:** What is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have our jump into the deep end! Thanks oh so much for all the kudos, bookmarks and comments on this!


	15. "What has the galaxy ever done for you? Why would you wanna to save it?!"

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Linger"  
> verb.  
> \- to stay in a place longer than necessary because of a reluctance to leave.  
> \- to spend a long time over (something).  
> \- to be slow to disappear or die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none(?)

* * *

 

It’s all fun and games until you have to answer to the police, sitting with a couple dozen traumatized citizens as a crime scene is scoured for information. Aaron would never have thought that he’d find himself in such a situation in his entire life, but at least he had survived that brush with death.

 

Well, more than survived said brush, if he was to elaborate on the degree of success.  
With such survival, one could consider the few odd perks that followed it.

 

For one, Aaron could not remember seeing his uncle look so haunted in his life, gently tugging him away from the store once they were free to go, eyes set on anything but his nephew as they drove home. It was unsettling, hearing emotion fester within the usually hollow questions of sentiment, and Aaron made sure to answer truthfully.

 

_Was he scared? Yes._

_Was he hurt? No._

_Did he need anything? Just some sleep._

_Will he go to someone for help? No, thank you._

_Was he alright? Yes_

_Was he fine? Yes_

_Will that last? Well._

 

The hyper-fixation on his state of being continued well into the weekend, with Aaron receiving tentative calls to go to the kitchen to eat and perhaps talk about his feelings. _Feelings? Hah._ If only they’d cared before that.

 

Everyone knew he handled _those_ on his own; why trust another with such information? One does not give a man a key to a vault and assume they will not try and take more than they need.

 _Like Aladdin,_ a voice, amused, trilled in his head, forming a cheeky smile among his memories. A voice that, fortunately, he knew all too well, and would not mind hearing again.

_If only._

 

A buzz sounded on the bedside table, and Aaron rolled over to retrieve the phone with a frown. A message, not a call; it was quite disappointing. If he’d heard the longer thrums of a call tone, then he would not be as lethargic, after all.

 

**It’s time. Stay calm.**

Unknown Number could call again.

 

Aaron still tried to wrap his head around the mere minutes that seemed to have shattered his current state of being, trying to piece together what he could remember among the fear and adrenaline. The call had been brief, but the piercing eyes of the criminal drowned out his sense of time, making it hard to recall if the voice had said anything else.

 

How did they know what was going to happen?

 

To top it all off, Aaron felt...conflicted. This was far from the usual second guessing - usually settling deep within his soul like a fresh coat of snow, deceptively soft - but instead festered a flame that he could not recall feeling in some time.

 

It reminded him of houses he called home, under blankets as strategies echoed softly into the night, fingers flying across buttons; of days spent seated under a tree, stories cementing themselves into personal histories. The _“You’ve got to at least try it, Aaron”_ , grin shining brighter than the spokes of a bike or the blades of skating boots. _“There’s no need to hide.”_

 

It felt good, and Aaron already knew why.

 

He had saved those people: only one injury was reported, and it was not due to lead through the chest. A mere cut on broken glass, apparently; it was a miracle based on the criminals' recorded weapons.

 

Sure, he may have not anticipated such a result from his brief lapse in judgement, but he’d done that. _It felt right._

 

Aaron could still feel the rush in his chest, clattering against his bones for release. _Why did it feel right?_

 

In all of his years, hiding the mist behind closed doors and drawn curtains, he never expected that the rush would be so brilliant, if not spontaneously effective. _Mist Reggie did a good job, while maintaining a corporeal form._

 

He’d barely managed the chameleons and birds on a good day; perhaps adrenaline does help?

 

_What if he did it again? -_

_No._

 

Rolling over once more, Aaron sighed in frustration and proceeded to check his messages, trying to brush any sort of incentive for trying out of his mind. _He was no superhero, and that was a fact, right?_

 

A notification slid down on his screen, making his heart skip, and he could not stop himself from trying to hold on to the feeling.

 

**A lingering presence? Mysterious hero averts store robbery.**

 

He held on, pressing the screen, and soon the feeling lingered all the same.

 

* * *

 

“Hey, Aaron!” Monday Afternoon: another day figuring out Liberty High. Just as Aaron had rounded the corner, a voice sounded just above the steady thrum of students, followed by the source maneuvering his way through the hallway crowd. John seemed to be on a mission, shoulders stiff as he met obstacle after obstacle.

 

The slowed approach almost seemed to annoy him, eyes flashing ever so slightly whenever he had to avoid another backpack, but as soon as he reached Aaron, he was grinning. “I was ordered by our other group member to consult you about one of the sections in our project, because he has to go take a verbal shit on something in fifteen.”

  
_Oh god -_ “Sounds like fun.” Aaron winced at the potential chaos Alexander may be causing, but nodded all the same. “What section is it? We can go to the courtyard and work on it there?”

  
  
“Sounds like a plan; it’s way too stuffy inside anyway. Too many people.” As if the world agreed, John seemed to swerve out of the way, avoiding a group of freshmen, bags loaded with enough to knock out a teen. “Let’s get out of here.”

 

"Agreed."

 

The walk to the courtyard grew less congested as time went on, John having stuck his hands into his hoodie pocket in content. Aaron noted the slight increase in pace when the crowds finally thinned out, matching the other stride for stride. Was this his normal pace? He couldn’t recall such when he was with Alex -

 

“Earth to Aaron? Not abducted, are you?” Aaron snapped back to reality to see that they were approaching a table, briefly glancing over to catch a smile on John’s face. “Do I have to call NASA?” Accented.

 

Aaron chuckled. “Bold of you to assume that I didn’t get abducted by my own free will.”

 

“Sure.” The word was dragged out as John sat down, and Aaron noted the slight increase in the other’s smile while he sat on opposite him.  John bent over to retrieve something from his bag. “Aliens aside, we have civilizations to research. How’s life, though? Good weekend?”

 

Aaron stopped himself from freezing; he hadn’t mentioned the store situation to anyone but his aunt and uncle, specifically asking that they do not bring it up among others. The request seemed to placate them enough. “Nothing much: my uncle had people over and my aunt tried to bake.”

 

“Tried to bake?” John snorted. “How much is ‘trying’?”  
  
“A hit and miss, actually.” Aaron shrugged his shoulders, downplaying the severity that was Aunt Rhoda’s culinary skill, and retrieved his own things as he continued. “It wasn’t anything too hectic, though - just cake. How was ice-skating?”

 

“Eh, the usual. Herc almost squashed a some Invictus footballer’s girlfriend who got in his way, and then proceeded to compliment her custom skates as an apology. I think she took it well, but her boyfriend was a dick.” John sighed, rolling his eyes. “They’re just annoyed that we broke their winning streak last year, but whatever.”

_Ah, high school rivalries._

“As long as you all had fun, right?” Aaron offered.

 

“Oh, we did; crashed at Laf’s for a bit, too. They really wanted to unpack that new super with us before they exploded with fan theories, you know.”

 

Aaron retreated a few steps back in verbal openness, the words repeating themselves constantly in his mind. “Fan theories? Are their already that many?”

 

Not that he didn’t know the answer: The Revocrewtionaries had been bursting with updates since the news broke.

  
  
John tilted his head to the side, mildly amused. “Okay, I know we should be doing the project, but you did see the headlines, right? There hasn’t been any new hero sightings in a while, so it’s a big deal here.”

 

“It’s almost like -” The teen gestured, trying to articulate himself.  “The internet has gone nuts, of course, and while the press prefers not to accept the new appearance as anything good, there’s a tad more hope, y’know? One more person to keep the city safe from all of these attacks. Nobody saw them, so it could be a one-time thing, but still.”

 

“And if they get caught? Supers are quite illegal.” Aaron’s reply felt rushed, despite the calm tone of reason. “Maybe the sighting was just a rare occurrence; I doubt they’d hang around for too long.”

 

John’s lips curled into a smile, shoulders shrugging.

 

“Well, we’ll have to see if they linger around like the name bestowed upon them.”

_“Linger, huh?”_

 

Linger.

 

That’s what they’d called him, or rather the small tendrils of mauve mist left at the store. To a hand that was not his own, or anything to contain it, the mist dissipated at a mere touch. Not a flicker was left in sight, rendering any analysis useless.

 

The mist, however, was immediately seen as a message when the police arrived, perhaps a calling card: _Linger was here_.

 

But were they staying?

 

John nodded. “It has a vibe to it, I gotta admit. There wasn’t even much info to use. We’ll have to see, I guess.” With that said, John looked down at his notes, “Hope for the best.”

 

Aaron didn’t respond, taking in the bloated silence. From what he gathered, John - like many of the younger generation - did not mind the current rise in supers. Hell, for kids that grew up reading stories and watching the odd comic animations, they were bound to be more accepting. However, some were more annoyed that they weren’t part of the group more than any, grudges skewed by the teachings of the older generation.

 

Besides, a lot of the hero sightings did look like young, inexperienced kids trying to replicate a comic book world into their own, which was not cushioned by fantasy-style retcons.

They had no right to be doing this alone.

 

And yet, they weren't really alone, not like him.

 

The silence rang on for a bit longer before he spoke up, catching John’s attention. “Just how many supers are active in New York? I’ve seen a few things online, but is the need of them that high? There hasn’t been redcoat activity in months, from what I’ve heard.”  
  
“Well, I only know the most frequent faces - y’know, Hurricane and such - but there’s quite a bit on the official circuit. The lack of an attack just lets them help around with petty crimes, I guess. Training for the big guys and whatnot.”

 

_Training. He had a point. They'd need experience._

_He'd need experience -_

_No._

 

“I guess it would be hard to delve into the mind of a teenage super for that information. Well, unless you can read minds.” Aaron paused, before chuckling at the absurdity of his words. There must be someone out there with the ability to do so, given the probability of his existence.

 

“Well, that’s true. It’s about to get a whole lot wilder if Linger stays for good, but the good that comes out of it may be wilder than anticipated. It’s a brave new age for humankind, after all.”  
  
Aaron recalled his uncle calling it The End Times, if he recalled correctly.

 

He expressed that aloud, “Brave? Possibly. My uncle thinks it may be the start of the apocalypse or something like it. The beginning of the end, mixed in with some unholy witchcraft.”

 

John winced, shaking his head in sympathy. “Fuck, that sounds like a messy thought, but fuck that. My dad thinks supers are hell-spawn too, but oh well. Let them be.”

Funnily enough, the statement - akin to something he would say to himself - sounded off when it came from the mouth of the other. _Let them be? Are you sure?_

 

Aaron raised an eyebrow, opting to respond neutrally. “Let them be? Doesn’t it bother you?”

 

“Well -”

 

There was a pause, contemplative, and Aaron found himself directing his eyes at the table, hoping that he had not offended John in any way. If he had, then he’d apologize immediately. However, at the clearing of the other’s throat, he returned his gaze back to freckled cheeks and amused eyes, basking in their warmth almost immediately.

 

The warmth flickered with emotion when John spoke, sounding genuinely honest. “Well, I don’t let the talk of hell-spawn and such bother me that much, because those supers are helping stop hell itself from falling through the sky, and winning so far.” There was something proud in his eyes, and Aaron could not help himself but match the smile on the other’s face. He couldn’t place the feeling. “Something is coming, though - everyone can feel it.”

 

Awe? Possibly.

Determination? Maybe.

Hope? Somewhat...

There had to be something else.

 

John shrugged, smile turning nonchalant. “The world is going to need all the damn help we can get.”

  
  
Aaron noted the soft buzz in his pocket, but chose to ignore it.

 

“We’ll just have to wait and see.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, it feels good to be back. Terribly sorry for the lapses in posting; between my uni work and other commitments, I find myself taking way to many breaks from everything.  
> Hopefully this makes up for it! We finally have a name...and this will be fun to play around with.
> 
>  
> 
> ~~Also, feel free to let me know if you'd ever want a small platform so I can post rambles/drabbles and headcanons, as per usual~~


	16. "You're a dead man, your heart just doesn't know it yet."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aaron and Theo have a chat.  
> There's blood in the water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; none

**‘Dosia:**  So, video chat?

 

Aaron saw the notification roll down the screen as he walked, hood up to combat the chilly breeze on the street. The afternoon had been uneventful, mixing a brief meeting at the library with an unforeseen therapy session; the latter, however, was mostly due to the vending machine being out of skittles.  
  
**A-a-ron:** I’m walking home, so is now fine?

 

**‘Dosia:**  Damn Aaron, riding on that mobile data? :P

 

**A-a-ron:** I’m not the one who drains their own data on stupid apps instead of using college wifi.

**A-a-ron:** Unlike you, I’m responsible ;)

 

**‘Dosia:** Whatever helps you sleep at night, kid.

 

**A-a-ron:** I sleep like a log and you know it. Give me a bit.

 

Aaron smiled at the set of images that followed, particularly the beaming face of his friend, middle fingers up just out of frame, before making the call. It had been some time since they’d talked, and while Aaron diffused it with excuses of work and focusing on settling in, _he knew what Theodosia was doing_.

 

“Hey…You look like you need some sleep.” The pixels that represented his closest friend shifted hues, and the tiredness in her eyes brightened with her smile. “I know that you have the sleep schedule of an owl on crack, but you need to get some sleep.”

 

The critique was merely a formality, and the resulting back and forth could be taken as something similar.

 

“No, I don’t. Get some sleep, college kid.”

 

“Sleep is for the weak in my degree; I’m going to work till I’m dead. I’m beautiful enough to handle the lack of sleep.”

 

“Theo, are you saying I’m not beautiful, because I’m not sleeping for acceptable Bartow standards?”

  
  
“Your honour, I would never insinuate such a thing! Everyone knows those eye-bags make you look like a tired cutie, though I prefer you without them. Healthy life, healthy Aaron, Happy Theodosia. Only the heavens know how much you can suck at a functioning circadian rhythm.”

 

If there was one thing Aaron knew about Theodosia, then it was her knack to make sure that he wasn’t being a complete idiot. They’d both done that for each other after a while, and he knew that beyond the teasing and the slight nagging, she did it out of love.

 

There were some things he knew he could have weathered alone, and yet she was there through. They’d both held each other up through quite a bit, after all.

 

Sleep deprived eye bags were the least of their experiences.

  
  
“Bold of you to assume that I wasn’t born with bags under my eyes and a constant tired smile, unheard smooth jazz bass boosted beyond audible discernment.” Aaron snorted. He had work to do - tasks to fulfill – that made sacrifices far more important than comfort.

 

_Your father would be proud to see you enter early, Aaron._

_You’ve got to stay on course for greatness, no doubt about it._

_When you succeed, then you can rest._

_When you succeed –_

_If you succeed…_

_Shut up._

 

“I’m perfectly fine; the workload will only grow, and I need to get ready.”

 

The blurred image couldn’t mask the moment Theodosia called bullshit, and while Aaron had barely started hoping that she wouldn’t vocalize it, she seemed to have caught on far quicker than he had anticipated.

 

In short, Aaron’s unheard sigh could have shaken the sidewalk when Theo avoided his lie, diffusing it fondly. “You literally have no need to get ready for anything, Mr _“I’m skipping grades and kicking ass”_. I, however, _need to get ready._ Jacques and the others want to go out and I just want to smash pixelated people with a war hammer.”

 

“Ask your boyfriend to stay in with you, then.”

 

“ _I know right?_ Alas, they’re getting gelato and I’m not about to miss out on that, comfy or not.”

 

Theodosia had her hair down, makeup off and generally looking well rested for a sophomore college student. Perhaps she’d had a free day, considering the all too familiar fluff that was her pajamas. Aaron knew her far too well to know the state of calm she must be experiencing to not have left her bed.

 

 It was nice to see, especially due to the last year’s reasons being…less calm. “You look comfy.” _Eyes aren’t red, hands aren’t shaking._ “Then again, your pajamas are as fluffy as a panda in a wind-tunnel.” _Not tear stained._ “You should treat yourself.”

 

“You know it, Ar-Bear.” The camera panned down briefly as she rolled over, showing the fluffy monochrome fleece contrasting against lilac duvet covers. “It’s cold, and I have to stop my soul from freezing over. How’s New York?”

 

Aaron opted to pan the camera away from himself, showing the streets around him as he rounded a corner. There wasn’t much to show besides a few trees, flamed leaves blown away by the wind, but the subtle differences in style could possibly help visually. _How was New York?_

 

Strange? Exhilarating? “I don’t know, really; it feels bigger and scarier at times, but I think I’m getting the hang of it. It’s new, but I’m still learning.”

 

“I see. I guess there’s always going to be something new in life. New rules, new places…”

  
  
“New faces…”

 

Aaron trailed off, not sure where to go with his train of thought. What could he say that didn’t sound selfish? _Theo, I miss old faces, old places, the comfort? New York might be the end of me?_

_Theo, I need to tell you something?_

  
  
He swallowed, dispelling the weight in his step, and Theodosia hummed in concern.

 

Of course, she’d noticed. She knew almost all his cues, tucking them away in a book few held, be it dead or alive.

 

She held on tight and consulted solutions.

 

“See, I told you that you’d get through this; you always do.” The soft smile on her face made Aaron direct his gaze away from the screen, its warmth comforting. “Look at you: Aaron in the big city, kicking ass.”

  
  
Aaron’s laugh bubbled to the surface, as Theodosia attempted to wolf whistle, only managing to get halfway through. “Save that for the supers, I suppose. They’re better at that.”

 

“Well, true, I guess; let’s not kick any unnecessary ass, though. Physically, that is.”

  
  
_Theo, I need to tell you something._

 

The warmth stuttered slightly, guilt settling in, and Aaron could only hope that he hadn’t missed anything from Theo’s words when he found himself internalizing where his mind went.

 

_Theo-_ “I don’t think my sleep quota allows for unnecessary ass kicking, Bartow.”

 

“I know you Aaron; if there’s a will, there’s a way you’ll wriggle through it. Probably looking cute while doing so – ”

 

Aaron found himself laughing at the analogy, eyes rolling. That feeling thrummed once more, harder. “Objection – ”

 

“Overruled, as the OG jury already decided that it is true.” Theo seemed to be chuckling too, amused. “It will always be true…”

 

“Yeah…”

 

It felt like home, _what ifs_ just out of reach from seeking hands. It felt like laughter vibrating in his throat, eyes tearing up, spine bent over. It felt like cuddle piles under weather beaten blankets, the soft grumbles and giggles of myths and legends, of times that sat under the same stars.

 

It felt like the good old days. _Them._

_Him._

 

Something stirred within his chest, pained.

“Theo…I miss him.”

 

Silence.

 

“I know, Aaron. I miss him too.”

 

The bus-stop was void of people when Aaron approached it, dispelling his need to pull himself together for the convenience of any strangers, but his eyes darted up and down the street nonetheless, trying to manage his current mood.

 

“We could be all be talking right now, about the stupid things, y’know.” _Sly looks, witty jokes. “_ Maybe he’d come join you at the gelato place.”

 

_Maybe I could have told him; you both deserved to know-_

“He did like gelato, I guess.” Theo rolled her eyes, albeit fond, “You two do love your sweets.”

 

_And yet you said nothing, Aaron. You knew for months before it._

“I would have sent him pictures from the M&M store and watched him scream.”

 

_It’s not like you could have helped._

“Ain’t that mischievous. He’d just send you a picture of those cupcakes from Nancy’s café? The ones with the heaven icing?” Theo watched in mild concern, but merely responded in turn. “I don’t even know how your teeth are still -”

 

_But you could have helped him stay awake a little bit longer. He did like stories._

Aaron shook his head, voice catching a pitch just beyond snappy. “Theo, can we just-”

 

The conversation grinded to a halt, Aaron recoiling at the realization while Theo ducked her head.  
Panic settled in to fill the void.

 

“Theo, I didn’t –”

  
  
“Aaron, it’s fine, really. I know it’s still a sensitive topic and that you don’t like speaking of it too much, but I thought that this was your way of trying to ease out of it.” Her words were slightly rushed, breathless.

 

Aaron’s heart fell. “I’m sorry nonetheless; that was uncalled for, and you were only trying to help.”

_It’s almost been a year, Aaron. You shouldn’t need help-_

He could barely look at pictures without crying.

 

Theodosia clicked her tongue, hand waving in dismissal. “It’s fine, Aaron. I’m going to try and help no matter what, anyway, but you don’t have to bottle things up with me. Okay?”

 

Theodosia Bartow: Actual angel.

 

“As long as you do the same for me, alright?” Aaron attempted a smile. “We’ve got each other, and you’ve got that therapist who smells like canned roses.”

 

 “Miss Eberhart really likes her essential oils and would not take offense to that description.”

 

“Hah.”

 

The silence dragged on with some sort of comfort, with Theodosia seemingly getting out of bed to fill it with faraway sound effects, and Aaron found himself sighing softly.

Being sad was draining. He had to avoid that.

 

“Well, I should leave you to your date – date with friends? Secret date?” He flashed a smile, eliciting a laugh from off screen.

 

“Stop it.”

 

“In your wildest dreams, will I stop.” Flipping the switch from melancholy to cheerfulness was an art few could master, and while Aaron’s soul knew that it was merely another coping mechanism for things he didn’t want to face again, his mind made sure to override any updates to the system.

 

To some, the constant switching was merely a way to push everyone away and stay within the recesses of their minds until they swallowed themselves whole, but Aaron knew himself better.

_He had to know himself._

He needed this tactic more than ever; he was alone, untethered, despite phone screens pulling old threads into present times.

 

Distance made the threads feel weaker.  
Death made the threads fade into memory.

 

_He couldn’t be alone._

_As much as he hated to admit it, he needed people, and he’d be damned if he didn’t try._

 

“You’re right though; I can already hear J. calling me while I’m in the shower; he has a knack for calling me when he knows I’m getting ready.” The screen was full of hair for a moment, probably due to Theo tying up her hair while holding the phone. “Weird, huh?”

 

“Well, I have _a theory_.” Aaron shook his head, fond. “Perhaps that usually coincides with the _exact_ time he was supposed to fetch you? Just a wild hypothesis, I guess.”

  
  
“Studies show that time is not the boss of my style schedule, though, so the experiment is flawed.” Theo’s face filled the screen, cheeky. “But you’re right, I should go.”

 

“You go have fun.” The reply was sincere; Theo deserved every ounce of fun in her life, after all. “I’m sure you’ll tell me if something wild happens.”

 

_And yet you won’t explain what wild things you have done._

 

“Oh, you can count on it. See you later, Burr Bear.”

 

“Not if I see you first.”

 

The call dropped with one last smile, and the world rushed back in, street quiet.

 

* * *

 

 

The city glistened with life below, heart still thrumming with unforeseen pulses as the night continued to race along. To most living creatures, the night was a time for rest and relaxation, but others found that the night was better to function.

 

To the figure on the roof of a skyscraper, it was time to work.

 

The creature seemed ancient, long spine arching as it hung its head, body deceptively humanoid, sans the double set of spiraling horns that twisted chaotically outwards.

 

Hair, fur, and feathers spilled across its face, sometimes sprouting organically, but oftentimes tied to the horns with an unseen string. A suspended, dull range of shades and colours, the creature seemed not to care.

 

Its eyes were hidden, though; no one could visually discern much.  
However, one could listen.

 

The October winds swept at its robes, iridescent colours catching in the moonlight, too fluid to be silk, yet too solid to be air. Wearable light, angelic. However, the wind could not hide the crouching figure’s appendages, too long and gangly to be right, and too beastly to be of one creature.

 

Long nails, silver, scraped across the floor, making small symbols across the concrete. Three strokes and a tap, then a pause, and then repetition. Each symbol held three precise strokes, layered upon the other until chaos remained under its hands.

 

Four fingered, adorned with trinkets and organic matter: Trophies.

 

An exquisite corpse of malicious intent, it crouched, head bowed.

 

Silent.

 

The scratching paused, finger tapping three times in quick succession.

 

It reared its head.

 

_ There. I can sense you. You were here. Came here. _

 

The creature rasped, happy.

 

Triumphant.

 

_ Hah! _

__

The voice seemed to rattle like cicadas, threatening among the joy in its soul. A hound that found its prey.

_ But why. _

 

The creature’s head tilted to the side, snapping something into place, before staying in that position, trophies dangling. It twitched.

 

_ I have never lost. We have never lost. You are but a grain in time’s moulding soil. What makes you think you can win? You are alone. _

 

The creature’s thoughts were seemingly met by silence, taps barely audible.  
Somewhere in the universe, something shifted.

Something replied.

 

As the world slept, and time turned, the chase commenced.  
The tapping ceased.  
The creature smiled.

_ Time will decide, my friend.  _

_ I am tired of waiting. _

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween, my friends! 40k+ words and we've barely scratched the surface of our antagonists (with the above introduction being...quite interesting in the forthcoming plot).  
> Time to get the ball rolling.


	17. "I make grave mistakes all the time. Everything seems to work out..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the Night Fair, and Aaron makes some decisions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw;; slight violence

Mid-October was, for the most part, not as cold as Aaron had expected it to be, and with the last week or so being mildly busy, he was happy for a break. For one, classes were easy, and debating a breeze due to his late entry; on the other hand, however, he had way more people who took a liking to him at an earlier stage, which could only mean more people to impress.

 

It was far easier when people opted to ignore him in DC, if he was honest. That was not to say that he wasn’t enjoying the company; it was therapeutic, if not comforting to have.

 

Aaron needed people, as much as he hated to admit it.

 

Thomas, James and Dolley were starting to become a constant in his day-to-day, linking each of them to lunch breaks and the occasional text. James was nice to talk to when it came to asking questions, even if he didn’t ask many, while Thomas still felt like a titan he should tread around _just in case,_ but he liked them all the same. They seemed to like him, after all.

Dolley, however, had taken to figuring him out like a child to their first puzzle.

 

That, and Aaron was the only person she knew who would listen to her fawn over her not-so-but-maybe boyfriend.

 

James needed to elaborate.

 

 **Dollface:** So where are we meeting?

 

 **A-a-ron:** At the entrance. My uncle just dropped me off.

 

At least she liked him well enough to wait for him as the Night Fair kicked off, Thomas and James already checking through the stalls for the best route to take. Aaron said goodbye to his uncle at the front of the school, watching the car circle out of sight before turning to walk towards the field. Even from afar, the lights and sounds of the fair were already quite inviting, adding to the warmth of the evening.

  
  
From what he could see, a lot had gone into the fair, from fairy lights to draping fabric, the black and blue colour scheme really shone in the moonlight, skies clear to show vaguely seen stars.

 

He was so busy admiring the scenery that he almost didn’t notice Dolley approach from behind a group of juniors, looking comfortable in a baby blue sweater, black jeans, and a white scarf. In contrast to his jacket and jean combination, faux fur lining the hood, he felt under-dressed.

  
  
“And so he arrives!” Dolley didn’t waste time, opening her arms to pull him into a hug. Aaron went willingly, smiling at the slight hint of a chuckle as they rocked from side to side. “Thank goodness you’re here. The boys -” She says the word fondly, “Are already inside, but Thomas said that they’ll be by the stage or whatever.”

  
  
“How much can we bet that it’s the _or whatever_ part?”

 

Dolley pulled back, getting a good look at him. “That’s why I need backup, my friend. Looking good, by the way.”

  
  
Aaron rolled his eyes at the small whistle she made - or attempted to make - before huffing slightly. “You look better, naturally, but I thank you for the confidence boost.”

 

“Oh Aaron, you don’t need it when you’re cool. I dub thee cool, alright?” Dolley shook her head, amused, before tugging at his hand. “Let’s go have fun.”

  
  
“Gotcha.”

 

The fair was already swarmed with people of all shapes and sizes, some alone and others in groups. Aaron could not help but try and take everything in, even if every glimpse only lasted a second of his time. Dolley had taken to looking out for her friends-who-are-boys soon after they entered, leaving Aaron to double check their current range of sight as they walked. On occasion, the two would stop at a stall to view an item that caught their eye, but their main goal didn’t falter.

 

Well, until they got to the stage.

 

The student body had apparently held auditions for live entertainment, with a winner being picked by popular vote at the end of the night. Aaron wouldn't have gone up himself, especially with the sheer amount of people there, but the melodies of the live band had him tapping his foot to the beat.

  
  
Thomas and James, however, had not made an appearance yet. “I think the two ran off somewhere, and aren’t answering their phones.” Dolley folded her arms. “Ten bucks says that both of them are at that bookstall on the other side of the field.”

  
  
Aaron noted the band shifting songs as he replied over the music. “If you go check, I can stay here and look out for them? I’ll keep my phone on just in case.”

 

“Scooby Doo taught us not to split up, but I’ll ignore that for a bit. Hopefully we find them.” Dolley looked around once more, resigned, before nodding in agreement. “Hopefully.”

  
  
With that said, Aaron was alone, mind wandering. There wasn’t much to see from his vantage point that he hadn’t seen before, and with a duo that should be easily spotted, he had no reason to stay there any longer than he had.

 

Aaron let himself wander towards the stalls close to the stage, hand dipping into a pocket to run his fingers along the crisp notes within. _Don’t splurge._

 

Then again, it’s his money.  
He wanted hot chocolate, dammit.

  
  
With that thought in the forefront of his mind, Aaron drifted towards a stall, people crowding around it with coffee cups of varying sizes. Naturally, the chill of the night had made the stall a popular hangout. Thus, note in hand, Aaron paid for the largest serving of hot chocolate they had and stepped to the side, waiting for his order.

 

“Well if it isn’t Aaron!” It was at that moment that a palm appeared on his shoulder, making him whirl around to the beaming sight of Hercules, Gilbert just behind him.

 

_Were they colour coordinating?_

 

Hercules seemed to have retracted his hand in the brief lapse of thought, smile turning sheepish as Gilbert gave their own greeting. If the two weren’t coordinating outfits, then Aaron would eat his pants.

 

Besides, they had the same scarf, but in contrasting colours. “Why are you all alone? I saw Thomas and James at the books -” _Bingo._

  
  
Aaron shrugged, gesturing vaguely in the direction Dolley went.  “Dolley went to go find them, so I’m getting hot chocolate.”

  
  
“Ah, I see. Well, Herc and I -” Gilbert was practically leaning on the senior as they spoke, to which Hercules didn’t seem to mind. Aaron found it quite heartwarming. “We wanted to walk around for a bit, and maybe find the rest, so would you like to join?”

 

Third wheeling?

_Were they together? Of course they were together._

  
_Why would you think otherwise? They look amazing together._  
_  
_ Stop it.

 

  
Aaron mentally sighed. “Sure. Let me just fetch my order.”

  
  
Hercules grinned, “We can wait.”

 

It didn’t take too long for his order to arrive (he texted Dolley in that time frame), and once it did, the three set off down the pathway to search for yet another duo. However, much to Aaron’s surprise, he found his assumption of third wheeling to be...well…  
  
Debunked.

 

For one, Gilbert and Hercules were as far from each other as possible, having opted to walk on either side of him as he sipped at his drink. It was somewhat hilarious to imagine if he was on the outside looking in, especially due to their differing heights. _Was it amusing that a ninth grader trumped him in height?_ Depends.

  
  
However, looking like he had a set of bodyguards was still amusing.

  
  
That didn’t stop him from catching the slight evidence of their separation, constantly bantering as they walked. The topics stayed light enough that Aaron could join in - which he assumed was the point - but there were times when he wasn’t sure who it was directed at.

 

For example: _“We should spend more nights out like this.”_ could have an infinite amount of participants, if his mind read it correctly.

 

_Was he reading it correctly?_

 

_His mind was wrong, probably._

 

“Angelica and the team really did a good job.” Hercules murmured once they rounded into another pathway, narrowly missing some mothers clustered around a jewelry store. “The turn out is amazing. I think I saw a news truck just outside the school.”

  
  
Gilbert turned their head, humming in agreement. “Eliza did mention that Angelica might be interviewed for this, so I think it’s happening. I’m a proud friend.”

  
  
“Seconded.”

  
  
“Thirded?” Aaron piped up, earning a chuckle from the two. “She’s wonderful, and people should know it.”

  
“I’m sure they will soon.” Hercules nudged him slightly, matching his smile, and Aaron ducked his head as they continued walking.

  
  
_The news? Must be a bigger thing than he thought._

 

It was with such information that Aaron wondered if anyone important was lurking around, possibly buying overpriced coffee and listening to free music. It was possible, given what he just heard. Rich people liked charity events and schools, right?

Possibly.

 

However, there were so many people that Aaron could safely assume that anyone rich and famous would probably be hidden very well, or at least only stick around for a bit before leaving. At least everyone seemed to be having fun.

  
  
A group of kids darted past, glowsticks waving in the air, and Aaron felt himself be yanked back before he collided with them; while the whole motion was shocking, the brief moment of being off the floor was confusing to say the least. _It was just a yank._

 

"Woah woah woah," Hercules let go of Aaron’s arm almost immediately after he’d finished pulling him back, unaware of the other’s thoughts as he watched the kids race out of sight, fond. “Crisis averted, huh?”

 

Gilbert chuckled.

 

"Yeah." Aaron stayed silent for a moment, before dropping the thought altogether; his perception must have been skewed in the moment. “Thanks, though.”

 

“No problem.” The senior flashed a smile before continuing to walk; the other two followed soon after. “Y’know, it would have been disastrous if we all crushed a bunch of kids.”

  
  
“I doubt we would have crushed them, Herc, but it’s the thought that counts.” Gilbert hummed, “They’re small and agile.”

  
  
“But they don’t have quick thinking yet, and thus I would have crushed them!” Hercules huffed, before sticking his tongue out in defiance. “Either way, we averted a potential problem. Right Aaron?”

  
The two turned to face the deciding vote, both wearing similar expressions of _“help me prove them wrong”_ grins. Aaron almost likened it to a duo of kids, arguing with themselves for their parents’ backing.  
Well, sans the fact that these were his friends.

 

_Friends._

 

“You’re both acting like children, so I won’t respond.” Aaron opted for the safer route, smirk growing on his lips. “No comment.”

 

Hercules and Gilbert seemed to deflate dramatically, sighs almost matching, and Aaron found himself snorting at the pout on the latter’s face.

  
  
“Alrighty then, we should get back to the stage; we’ve been looking for the actual children for a while and haven’t seen them, so I give up.” Gil shrugged, eyes sweeping up and down the path. “They’ll be fine.”

 

“You just want cake.”

 

“Is that a crime, Mulligan? Bite me.”

 

“Bite some cake, Laf.”

 

“Betrayal!”

 

Aaron snorted at the look of said betrayal on Gil’s face, but after the mention of cake, it sounded like a good idea. “Let’s get cake.”

 

There was a beat of silence, before Gilbert snorted.

 

“Aaron is my new best friend. Sorry Herc, I do not make the rules. Let’s get cake, mon ami!”

 

“Betrayal, the sequel!”

 

Gilbert chuckled, grabbing Aaron’s hand and walking away with him, making sure to use their other hand to wave back at the senior. If Hercules’ huff of amusement was anything to go by, then they didn’t need to look back.

  
The pathway to wherever Gilbert saw cake was void of potentially crushed kids, which only meant that the speed at which they walked increased exponentially. Aaron would have reminded the other that his stride was not as extensive, but he was enjoying the briskness of it all; he felt calm.

 

Pairing that with Gilbert deciding what cake they’d get, bouncing off of the other two as they weighed their options, and Aaron felt needed.

 

Their walk took them back to the stage area, which had seemed to have attracted more people than originally. A trio of three, covering old school rock, seemed to be taking requests from the surrounding crowd.

 

Gilbert stopped at a stall, full of baked goods, and Aaron’s gaze shifted back to them for a brief moment, before returning to watching the performance. He didn’t say much while the line shortened. “They’re good. Will probably win.”

 

Hercules nodded, arms folded. “True; they’re from another school nearby, but they’re good dudes.”

 

_Huh._

 

Aaron hadn’t paid much attention to the schools around him, but after Hercules’  comment, he observed the band more closely. They seemed alright, as mentioned prior, dressed to impress in a more grunge style, despite the nighttime chill. Probably a group of friends who just like to perform.

  
  
With the line slowly decreasing, the trio just listened to the band play, switching from song to song based on audience approval, and generally seemed to be having a good time. Aaron, in fact, was enjoying himself for once, and the company even more so; just a couple of teens chatting on a Friday night.

 

_It felt good. He liked it._

  
  
If only the performance’s climax didn’t end with a body slamming into the drum-set, seemingly appearing out of nowhere.

 

People screamed.  
Aaron gaped.  
  
_Is that-_

 

The body seemed not to be hurt, pushing themselves out of the wreckage without a care, turning over to apologize the the drummer who had backed off out out fear. Once righted, they turned, and Aaron managed to pin down the familiarity quite quickly, despite chaos already spiking among the audience.

 

Hooded jacket, black jeans, gloves, and combat boots, all tied together with an LED mask that covered most of their face.  
Energy radiated off them in waves, warm.

 

_Oh fuck -_

  
  
Activist picked up the the discarded microphone on the stage, having been dropped by the lead singer, and spoke, voice distorted. Each syllable should not have been as calm as it sounded. “I need everyone to evacuate the field, please.”

 

_Polite._

 

The murmurs turned into full-blown shouts, with some already pushing past to follow instructions, while others hurled curses at the stage.

  
  
“Get out of here!”  
“A super menace!”  
“You aren’t welcome here, freak!”

  
  
Hercules placed his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, while Gilbert tugged at his hand. “Let’s go-”

 

“I need you to leave! Please!” Activist seemed to getting more frustrated, and Aaron found the odd energy making him want to run away for hours, as long as he could. The surrounding area seemed to be evacuating, fear fueling their actions; mothers grabbed for their kids, while groups clustered together in fear.

  
  
Some stayed, and Aaron didn’t have the time to check who had. Hercules and Gil seemed to pull him along, and the three joined the crowds in hope of leaving the area as Activist said. On occasion, he would catch another frustrated growl at the defiant civillians, wondering just how desperate the hero was.

 

_Why did they have to leave?_

 

_What was-_

 

“Please fucking - oh fuck.”

  
  
A roar sounded, rattling the surrounding trees.

  
  
Aaron felt his blood freeze as hell burst forth.

  
  
Now, if Aaron had not taken those few seconds of shock to watch the brute that ran onto the field, jaws slack and spittle flying, then he could have avoided the panic of people pushing and shoving, and the subsequent detachment of his friends’ hands. Instead, the hulking behemoth had enraptured the fear within him, going as far to keep his gaze on it.

  
  
_Fight, flight...or freeze._

 

Crouched, it had the apparent size of a grown bull elephant, with proportions similar to a hound-like beast, but once it relaxed it was larger, less rotund. However, it felt like something out of a game, fur and plated parts giving it a barbaric appearance, jaw unlocking to show a flurry of razor sharp teeth, thick manes shaking, claws unsheathed.

  
  
Red: the colour of danger.

  
  
It turned, sets of eyes locking with the stage, and roared, shaking the area.

  
  
Aaron slammed back into reality, and ran.

  
  
The crowds pushed and shoved around him, launching him left and right as he attempted to figure out where the hell he was. By the time he had orientated himself, the shoving has pushed him towards the edges of the chaos, with the limbo between the beast and him on full display.

  
  
The stalls were empty, as they should be.  
The field felt so small.

  
  
With his freedom blocked, the teen went into overdrive, hearing another roar and proceeding to do the next best thing.

 

_Fight, flight...or freeze?_

_No._

_Hide._

 

  
_Oh god oh god oh fucking god -_

  
  
He raced for the bleachers, which were draped in fabric, and dived behind one of them.

 

The screams increased.

  
  
Shaking, Aaron shuffled to one of the breaks between fabric and peeked out, catching a flash of red in the distance. The brute still looked like a titan from afar, rearing up and slashing at its far smaller opponent. The stage had a paw sized mark where he'd last seen the hero. Each miss seemed to anger it more, and yet any sign of it stopping was not visible.

  
  
Activist, however, was hard to see, but his efforts were noble. Aaron observed each and every attack the speedster tried to inflict, knocking the beast with each and every arc they made; it almost looked like an invisible punch, sometimes making the brute stagger.  
It was amazing to watch, despite the fear settling within him.

  
_Amazing -_

  
And then time stopped.

  
  
Something seemed to burst out from the back of the beast, lashing out as Activist raced at its side. Red, slimy, as if it had just been grown, the appendage grabbed at the hero and swung out, sending Activist flying into a set of stalls.

 

Brutes don't do that.   
They had never done that.

  
  
_No no no no no no no -_

  
  
The brute roared, triumphant.

 

_No!_

_  
_ Activist didn’t get up.

 

Aaron’s phone vibrated - three beeps, close together.

 

A message, on a vibrate tone he never used.

 

Aaron looked down.

  
  
**Unknown Number: You’ve observed it.**

**Unknown Number: Fight fire with fire.**

**Unknown Number: Stay calm. You got this.**

 

Aaron looked at the screen in shock, breath constricting, and peeked out of his hiding place once more. The brute had finished its roaring, appendage retracting as it stalked towards where the hero had fallen, and with each step bringing the inevitable closer, panic settled in.  
Anger rose.

 

_He had to do something._

 

Aaron closed his eyes.

  
  
“Fight fire with fire, alright.” Like a lighter to a match, the wisps of mauve burst forth from his fingers, travelling around the space like an approaching fog. It didn’t seem to have reason to clump together like his usual attempts, understanding that _bigger would be better._

 

 _Fire with fire._  
  
_Fight fire with fire._

  
  
Aaron found himself drowning in the mist, sight filtered by the mauve sheen around him, breaths as clear as they could be. It was in him, and around him, and yet it waited for instruction. It was him.

 

_What do you want to do?_

 

The mist roared to life, springing out of the hiding place as it clumped together, growing and shaping into what Aaron saw as a similar behemoth, jaws slack and skin plated, but tinted mauve. A near replica of a brute, tied to the strings around his wrists like a puppet.

  
  
_What do you want us to do?_

 

He frowned.

 

_Protect._

 

The beast roared, and pounced.

  
Aaron felt the impact as if it was him doing it himself, staggering at the strength behind it once the red brute realized it had competition. Roaring in rage, the brute and the illusion tumbled, biting and scratching in an attempt to pin the other down.

 

He was in over his head.

 

  
“Fuck-” The teen fell to his knees, gasping at a well timed swipe, which took off a chunk from the illusion’s shoulder, eyes widening as the following strike managed to hit its face. The brute then pushed the illusion back to pounce once more, narrowly missing its now defensive target.  
Aaron whined at the exhaustion starting to cloud his vision.

 

_He was in over his head._

 

Mimicking the stagger of his illusion, Aaron backed away from his vantage point with a gasp, trying to pump whatever he could into keeping his illusion alive. This was far bigger than anything he had attempted to create, let alone maintain, and the fatigue could only get worse. He couldn’t afford to pass out-

 

_Oh god, I can’t pass out._

 

Panic versus duty strove to triumph, and the teen fell to his knees as both threatened to overwhelm his focus. The fight still raged on outside his true vision, mind chanting _Protect_ with every fibre of his being. He felt stripped of his soul at this stage, having placed it in the protection against something out of his league, let alone his earth.

  
  
The brute swiped again, and tears sprung to his eyes. “Help -”

  
  
“Go for the legs.”

  
  
_What-_

  
  
Aaron didn’t know when he’d closed his eyes, but the sudden sound of a female voice had them opening once more, only to land on a teen presumably younger than him, eyes fierce.

  
  
She didn’t seem to notice his pause of shock, turning to the flickering strings with determination. “Come on, we have to finish this quickly. Aim for the legs! Focus on the legs!”

  
  
Aaron opened his mouth to speak, before feeling as if the wind had been knocked out of him, and proceeded to slump.  _Help -_

 

The teen caught him, “You’ve oversubscribed, but I need you to focus, alright? Tell it to aim for the legs. Listen to my voice only. You got this.”

 

**You got this.**

_What did he have to lose?_

 

Aaron did as he was told.

 

From outside the bleachers, Activist saw a miracle; the mauve beast had managed to lock its jaws around the brute’s front paw, and effectively crunching right through it with a burst of fury. The brute howled, staggering back, and collapsing at the sheer amount of dark sludge that spilled out of its severed limb, like oil-slick, toxic.

 

From the outside, people saw the mauve brute launch onto the downed opponent, claws digging in and jaws snapping maniacally around its neck, biting as if the world depended on it, shredding through mane and fur and skin and muscle.

 

And then it stopped, hanging its head as ragged breaths rattled its form. With each movement, the form seemed to break up into nothingness, its time on the earth done.  
Well done, in all senses of the term.

 

The brute underneath it did not attempt to get up.

 

Silently triumphant, the illusion burst into mauve mist, falling to linger on the soaking grass, a reminder.

 

They had won.

  
To the world, they had won.

  
  
Aaron’s breaths, however, were shallow, body cold.

 

Behind the bleachers, a teen saw something more nuanced, cradling the stranger in her lap, eyes wide with shock. This was far from anything that she’d seen before, and despite hoping that her observation had been accurate, she had not taken into account how much that would have taken.

 

It had taken more than she’d anticipated.

  
  
If the glazed eyes of the slumped teen were anything to go by, mauve flickering behind his irises, then she had to extend her help once more.

 

_It couldn’t end like this._

 

“Let’s get you some help, alright? I’ll get you some help.” The teen murmured to deaf ears, shifting the body to fetch her phone.

 

_It wouldn’t end like this; not on her watch._

 

>>>Calling: Angie  



End file.
